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TO  THE  TEACHER 

Wb  take  occasion  to  repeat  here  some  of  the  introductory  remarks  contained  in  the 
Third  Reader. 

I.  We  suggest  that  the  reading-class  should  repeatedly  go  through  with  the  "  Elements 
of  Elocution,"  not  only  by  reading  aloud  the  examples,  hut  by  selecting  daily,  at  the  be- 
ginning or  close  of  each  reading  exercise,  and  from  whatever  sources  they  choose,  exam- 
ples illustrating  some  one  Rule  or  Note. 

II.  As  the  more  difficult  words  in  each  reading  lesson  are  defined  at  its  close,  and  in 
that  particular  sense  in  which  they  are  used  in  the  passages  referred  to^  these  definitions 
may  be  made  to  contribute  greatly  to  a  correct  knowledge  of  the  lesson  read.  To  this 
end  the  lesson  should  always  be  studied  in  advance  by  the  pupil,  who,  after  reading  a 
verse,  should  explain  these  more  difficult  words  by  substituting  in  their  places  either  the 
definitions  given,  or  such  terms  of  his  own  selection  as  may  answer  the  same  purpose. 
The  benefits  of  this  defining  exercise  to  pupils  in  this  stage  of  advancement  will  not  be 
inconsiderable ;  for,  besides  contributing  to  a  better  knowledge  of  the  lessons  read,  it 
will  cultivate  a  habit  of  reading  understandingly,  and  also  call  particular  attention  to 
the  meaning  of  nearly  a  thousand  individual  words  in  this  Reader  alone. 

III.  In  the  words  defined,  particular  attention  should  be  paid  to  their  correct  aeceniu- 
ation^  and  also  to  the  correct  sounds  of  the  letters^  as  designated  by  the  accompanying 
marks,  which  are  explained  by  the  Pronouncing  Key  on  p^ge  14  The  pupil  should  bo 
required  to  give  the  authority  for  the  pronunciation  of  all  the  more  difficult  or  uncom- 
mon words  defined  by  reference  to  the  Key ;  thus,  Xecu'-Ttes,  "  Italian  sound  of  d,  as 
in  fdr^  father;  €  hard,  like  k;  l  long ;  and  soft  $,  like  z."  This  will  compel  a  familiar- 
ity with  the  Key,  and  train  the  ear  to  nice  distinctions  of  sounds,  indispensable  requi- 
sites in  securing  a  cultivated  elocutionary  taste. 

IV.  As  Part  V.,  entitled  Natural  Philosophy,  should  be  studied  more  than  other 
portions  of  the  book,  we  recommend  to  the  teacher  to  require  the  class,  when  beginning 
this  Reader,  to  read  one  lesson  each  week  in  Part  V. ,  and  to  study  the  lesson  previously 
with  considerable  attention.  A  second  reading,  when  the  class  comes  to  this  Part  in 
regular  order,  will  be  a  profitable  review. 


A  '■ 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred 

and  sixty,  by 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 

!n  tho  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


GIFT 


1^4 
W74s^ 

P  E  E  F  A  C  E.  Y^ 
E-dxuO 

In  this  Fourth  Reader,  the  leading /»/«>*  of  the  "School  and  Family  C 

Readers,"  which  is  that  of  combining  useful  knowledge  with  instruction  in 
reading,  is  more  fully  developed  than  in  the  Third  Reader ;  and  from  the 
manner  in  which  some  of  the  departments  of  Natural  Science  are  here 
treated,  teachers  may  judge  whether  the  plan  is  feasible  or  not,  and  how  it 
will  be  likely  to  succeed  when  extended  to  the  subjects  embraced  in  the  re- 
maining threer  numbers  of  the  series. 

Teachers  will  observe  that,  while  we  have  aimed  to  make  the  several  di- 
visions, or  "Parts,"  in  this  Reader  as  instructive  as  possible,  we  have  not 
lost  sight  of  the  importance  of  making  them  intei-esting  also ;  and  to  this 
end  we  have  introduced  great  variety  in  matter  and  manner,  and  illustra- 
tions which  are  valuable  lessons  in  themselves. 

For  the  sake  of  that  regular  gradation  which  is  highly  essential  in  School 
Readers,  and  to  avoid  introducing  too  much  on  any  one  subject  in  the  same 
book,  we  have  made  two  divisions  each  of  Human  Physiology,  Botany,  and 
Natural  Philosophy,  and  have  given  only  the  first  and  easier  portion  of  each 
subject  in  the  present  Reader.  The  second  divisions  will  be  contained  in 
the  Fifth  Reader. 

Zoology  is  here  continued  in  the  division  entitled  Ornithology^  or  Birds. 
For  the  beautiful  illustrations  in  this  part  we  are  indebted  to  the  same  art- 
ist (Parsons)  to  whom  we  expressed  our  obligations  for  the  admirable  draw- 
ings of  animals  in  the  Third  Reader. 

In  Part  IV.,  "Miscellaneous,"  we  have  given  a  few  old  standard  pieces, 
because  they  are  unsurpassed  in  merit,  will  be  new  to  every  succeeding 
generation,  and  have  no  superiors  as  reading  exercises. 

Part  VL,  entitled  "Sketches  from  Sacred  History,"  partially  develops 
the  plan  which  will  be  pursued  in  the  Historical  divisions  of  the  Fifth, 
Sixth,  and  Seventh  Readers. 

I  am  indebted  for  valuable  aid  in  the  departments  of  Botany  and  Natu- 
ral Philosophy  to  Professor  N.  B.  Webster,  of  Virginia,  by  whom  portions 
of  those  divisions  and  some  original  and  very  happy  illustrations  of  philo- 
sophical principles  were  furnished. 

In  submitting  to  the  public  the  Primer  and  first  four  Readers  of  the 
series,  the  undersigned  begs  to  assure  teachers  who  may  adopt  the  portion 
now  published  that  the  preparation  of  the  remaining  three  numbers  is  al- 
ready considerably  advanced,  and  that  they  will  be  issued  without  unneces- 
sary delay.  M.  Willson. 
New  York,  May  1st,  18G0. 


■4  <  o 


CONTENTS. 


Pftee 

Elements  of  Elocution T 

Key  to  the  Sounds  of  the  Letters 14 

PART  I. 

HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY  AND  HEALTH. 
Lesson 

L  The  Frame-work  of  the  Human  Body 15 

n.  The  Bones,  and  the  Injuries  to  which  they  are  liable 19 

ni.  Organs  that  move  the  Body — The  Muscles ^ 21 

rV.  Muscular  Exercise  and  Mental  Stimulus 26 

V.  Organs  that  prepare  Nourishment  for  the"Body » 29 

VI.  The  Best  Cosmetics* 34 

Vn.  Abuses  of  the  Digestive  Organs— Laws  of  their  Healthy  Action 85 

Vm.  The  Fable  of  the  Two  Bees 38 

IX.  The  Complaint  of  a  Stomach ^.., 39 

X.  Comaro  the  Italian 42 

XL  Advantages  of  Temperance  in  Diet 44 

Xn.  The  Confession 47 

Xin.  The  Organs  of  Circulation  and  of  Respiration 48 

XTV.  A  Hymn.    Air  and  Exercise 52 

XV.  Abuses  of  the  Lungs 53 

XVI.  The  Skin — its  complicated  Mechanism 59 

XVn.  Growth  and  Decay— Life  and  Death 63 

XVHL  Abuses  of  the  Skin 66 

XIX.  The  Years  of  Alan's  Life 68 

XX.  Health— a  Letter  to  Mothers 69 

XXI.  Rest  and  Sleep 71 

XXn.  Early  Rising.     Extracts  from  Thomson  and  Hurdis 74 

XXIII.  The  Old  Cottage  Clack 75 

XXIV.  Health  Proverbs 76 

PART  II. 

ORNITHOLOGY,  OR  THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  BIRDS. 

I.  Birds.— Feet  of  Birds— Heads— JVes«s 77 

IL  Birds 82 

m.  L  BIRDS  OF  PREY The  Faloon  Teibb 84 

IV.        Habits  of  the  Eagle 90 

V.        Tlie  Osprey^  or  Sea  Eagle 93 

VI.        The  American  Eagle 95 

VIL        Vultures  and  Owls 96 

vm.        Song  of  the  OiDl 99 

IX.  IL  PERCHING  OR  SINGING-BIRDS: 101 

1.  The  TooTnED-BiLLS 101 

X.               The  Mocking-bird 104 

XI.              The  Bluebird.     Wilson's  Description  of 106 

Xn.       2.  TnK  Clkft-uills 108 

Xin,              The  Folds  of  the  Air  shall  'Teach  thee 113 

XIV.              The  Swallow  Party 113 

XV.              The  Swallows 116 

XVI.  3.  The  Cone-hills 118 

XVn.               The  Snowbird.    Miss  GoulfVs  Description  of. 122 

XVIII.  The  Song-Himrrow.     Pickcrimfa  Description  of 124 

XIX.  The  English  Skiflark 126 

XX-  The  Lark  and  the  Rook 127 

XXI.  Birds  in  Summer 128 

XXn.       4.  The  TniN-imxs.    Humming-birds^  etc 129 

*  Those  designatod  \>y  italics  are  in  Poetry. 


CONTENTS.  V 

Lesson  Page 

XXm.  m.  CLIMBEES.    Toucans,  Lories,  Parrots,  Wrens,  etc 133 

XXIV.       Parrots.     CampbelVs  Description  of 13G 

XXV.        The  Cuckoo  arid,  the  Swallow 138 

The  Cuckoo 139 

XXVI.  IV.  SCRATCHERS,  OR  POULTRY-BIRDS.     Pheasants,  Doves 140 

XXVn.        The  Citii  Dove 145 

XXVIIL  V.  THE  RUNNERS,     Ostriches,  Bustards,  etc 146 

XXIX.  VL  THE  WADERS.     SpoonbiUs,  Cranes,  Flamingoes,  Herons,  Storks  . .  149 

XXX.  VH.  THE  SWIMMERS.    Penguins,  Auks,  Pelicans,  Ducks,  Gulls,  Swans  154 

XXXI.  The  Harmony  of  Nature 159 

XXXIL  Birds  of  the  Sea 160 

XXXIII.  The  Stormy  Petrel 161 

XXXIV.  To  a  Water-fowl.    Birds  of  Passage  by  Night 162 

XXXV.   What  is  that.  Mother  ? 164 

XXXVI.  The  Birds  of  Heaven 165 

XXX VIL  Questions  to  the  Birds,  and  their  Answers 166 

XXXVin.  A  South-Sea  Rookery tC3 

PART  III. 

VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OR  BOTANY. 

I.  The  Vegetable  Kingdom 171 

II.  Introductory  View  of  Botany 174 

ni.  The  Elementary  Parts  of  Plants— Cell  Life 178 

IV.  The  Roots  of  Plants.     Planting 182 

V.  Changes  produced  by  Cultivation 185 

VL  The  Stems  of  Plants.     The  Baobab,  Cactus 186 

VH.  The  Banyan-tree 191 

VHI.  The  Leaves  of  Plants 192 

IX.  The  Angel  of  the  Leaves ;  an  Allegory 198 

X.  Poetical  Imagery  derived  from  the  Vegetable  World 202 

XL  The  Last  Leaf 205 

XIL  The  Food  of  Plants 207 

XIH.  The  Mysteries  of  Vegetation 210 

XIV.  Plants,  the  Lungs  of  Cities 211 

XV.  Buds— Budding,  Grafting,  etc 213 

XVI.  Leaf  Arrangement 214 

XVH.  Vegetable  Reproduction — Flowers 21T 

XVin.-  Hymn  to  the  Flowers 221 

XIX.  Vegetable  Reproduction— conimttcd.     Stamens,  Pistil,  Fruit,  Seeds 223 

XX.  Flowers,  the  Stars  of  Earth -, 227 

XXI.  Dispersion  of  Seeds 229 

PART  IV. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

I.  Better  than  Diamonds 231 

II.  Alram,  and  Zimri 234 

IIL  Sorrow  for  the  Dead 236 

IV.  Forgive  and  Forget 239 

V.  Cleonandl 240 

VI.  Spectacles,  or  Helps  to  Read 241 

VIL  The  May  Queen 242 

VIH.  The  Bishop  and  the  King 246 

IX.  Consider  both  Sides  of  a  Question 246 

X.  The  Chameleon 243 

XL  We  are  Seven 250 

Xn.  On  Good-breeding 252 

XIH.  The  Heritage 254 

XIV.  Schemes  of  Life  often  Illusory 256 

XV.  A  Psalm  of  Life 259 

XVr.  Practical  Precepts 260 

XVIL  The  Inquiry 261 

XVHL  The  Hour  of  Prayer.    Prayer 203 

XIX.  The  Three  Sons 264 

XX.  The  Blind  Preacher 266 

XXL  Father  William 268 


VI  CONTENTS. 

Lesson  P«ge 

XXII.  John  Littlejohn 209 

XXUI,  The  Vision  of  Mirza 2T0 

XXIV.  Christ's  Second  Coming 2T5 

PART  V. 

NATURAL  PUILOSOPHY. 

I.  The  School  at  Glenwild 276 

II.  The  Volunteer  Philosophy  Class 280 

III.  The  Properties  of  Matter 283 

IV.  The  Properties  of  Matter — continued 288 

V.  Motion  and  its  I^ws 293 

VI.  Gravity,  and  Falling  Bodies 800 

VII.  Mechanical  Powers 309 

VIII.  Mechanical  Powers — continued 320 

IX.  Miscellaneous  Mechanical  Matters 325 

PART  YI. 

SKETCHEJS  FROM  SACRED  IHSTORY. 

I.  The  Curse  of  Cain 333 

The  Curse  of  Cain 333 

II.  Hagar  in  the  Wilderness 384 

Hagar  and  Ishmael 335 

III.  The  Passage  of  the  Red  Sea 33T 

Overthroio  of  the  Philistines 338 

IV.  Israel  under  the  Judges 339 

Jejyhthah's  Dawjhter 340 

V.  Ruth  and  Naomi 342 

Ruth  2>leadinff  with  Is'aomi 843 

VL  The  Reign  of  David 344 

David's  Lament  for  A  bsalom 345 

VII.  The  Kingdom  of  Israel 347 

Elijah^ s  Intervieiv  ivith  God 348 

VIII.  The  Kingdom  of  Judah 349 

Destruction  of  Sennacherib 360 

IX.  Advent  of  the  Messiah 351 

The  Nativity 352 

X.  The  Miracles  of  the  Savior 353 

1 .  The  Leper 353 

2.  The  Widow  of  Nain 355 

3.  The  Healing  of  the  Daughter  qf  Jairus 35S 

XI.  The  Crucifixion 360 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELOCUTION. 


Rule  I. — Direct  questions,  or  those  that  can  be  answered 
by  yes  or  no,  generally  require  the  rising  inflection,  and  their 
answers  the  falling. 

Examples.— Do  you  think  he  will  come  to-day'  ?    No^ ;  I  think  he  will  not\— -Was  that 

Henry'?    No';  it  was  John' Did  you  see  William'?    Yes',!  did'.— Are  you  going  to 

town  to-day'  ?    No',  I  shall  go  to-morrow'. 

MODIFICATIONS   OF   RULE    I. 

Note  I. — Answers  that  are  given  in  a  careless  or  indifferent  manner,  or 
in  a  tone  of  slight  disrespect,  take  the  rising  inflection  in  all  cases. 

Examples Did  you  see  William'?    I  did'.— What  did  he  say  to  you'?    Not  much'. 

See,  also,  Lesson  H.,  p.  39,  of  Second  Reader. 

Note  II. — Direct  questions,  when  they  have  the  nature  of  an  appeal,  or 
are  spoken  in  an  exclamatory  manner,  take  the  falling  inflection.  In  these 
cases  the  voice  often  falls  beloio  the  general  pitch,  contrary  to  the  general 
rule  for  the  falling  inflection. 

Examples. — Is  not  that  a  beautiful  sight'  ? — Will  you  persist  in  doing  it^  ?— Is  it  right'  ? 
—Is  it  just'  ? 

Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  wooed'  ? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  won'  ? 

Note  III. — When  a  direct  question  is  not  understood,  and  is  repeated 
with  emphasis,  the  repeated  question  takes  the  falling  inflection. 

Examples. — Will  you  speak  to  him  to-day'?  Kthe  question  is  not  understood,  it  is 
repeated  with  the  falling  inflection,  thus :  Will  you  speak  to  him  to-day'  ?— Are  you  going 
to  Salem'?    I  said,  Are  you  going  to  Salem' ? 

Rule  II.  —  The  pause  of  suspe7ision,  denoting  that  the 
sense  is  unfinished,  such  as  a  succession  of  particulars  that 
are  not  emphatic,  cases  of  direct  address,  sentences  implying 
condition,  the  case  absolute,  etc.,  generally  requires  the  ris- 
ing inflection. 

Examples. — John',  James',  and  William',  come  here.— The  great',  the  good',  the  hon- 
ored', the  noble',  the  wealthy',  alike  pass  away. 

Friends',  Romans',  countrymen',  lend  me  your  ears. 

Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Simon',  son  of  Jonas',  lovest  thou  me'? 


8  ELEMENTS   OP   ELOCUTION. 

Ye  hills',  and  dales',  ye  rivers',  woods',  and  plains', 
And  ye  that  live  and  move,  fair  creatures',  teir, 
Tell,  if  ye  saw,  how  came  I  thus^ ;  how  here^  ? 

Note. — For  cases  in  which  emphatic  succession  of  particulars  modifies 
this  rule,  see  Rule  VIII. 

Rule  III. — Indirect  questions,  or  those  which  can  not  be 
answered  by  yes  or  no,  generally  require  the  falling  inflec- 
tion, and  their  answers  the  same. 

Examples. — When  did  you  see  him^  ?  Yesterday\ — Wlien  will  he  come  again^  ?  To- 
morrow \ 

Who  say  the  people  that  I  am^?  They  answering,  said,  John  the  Baptist^;  but  some 
say  Elias\'  and  others  say  that  one  of  the  old  prophets^  is  risen  again. 

Note. — But  when  the  indirect  question  is  one  asking  a  repetition  of  what 
was  not  at  first  understood,  it  takes  the  rising  inflection.  "  What  did  he 
say^  ?"  is  an  indirect  question,  with  the  falling  inflection,  asking  for  inform- 
ation. But  if  I  myself  heard  the  person  speak,  and  did  not  fully  under- 
stand him,  and  then  ask  some  person  to  repeat  what  he  said,  I  give  my 
question  the  rising  inflection,  thus,  "  Whai"  did  he  say'?"  (Remark. — 
Perhaps  the  true  reason  of  the  rising  inflection  here  on  the  word  say  is 
because  it  is  preceded  by  an  emphatic  word  (what)  with  the  falling  inflec- 
tion.    See  note  to  Rule  IV.) 

Rule  IV.  —  A  completion  of  the  sense,  whether  at  the 
close  or  any  other  part  of  the  sentence,  requires  the  falling 
inflection. 

Examples.— He  that  saw  me'  saw  you  also\  and  he  who  aided  me  once'  will  aid  me 
again\ 

In  the  beginning,  God  created  the  heavens  and  the  earth\  And  the  earth  was  without 
form,  and  void^ ;  and  darkness  was  on  the  face  of  the  deep^ :  and  the  spirit  of  God  moved 
upon  the  face  of  the  waters\ 

Note. — ^But  when  strong  emphasis,  with  the  falling  inflection,  comes 
near  the  close  of  a  sentence,  the  voice  often  takes  the  rising  inflection  at 
the  close. 

Examples. — If  William  does  not  come,  I  think  John"^  will  be  here'.— If  he  should  come, 
tfl/tar  would  you  do'  ? 

CASSiua  Wliat  night  is  this? 

Casca.  a  very  pleasing  night  to  honcsf^  men'. 

Proceed''^  I  am  attentive'. 

This  is  the  course  rather  of  our  enemies,  than  of  friends'^  of  our  country's  liberty'. 

If  the  witness  does  not  believe  in  God,  or  a  future  state,  you  can  not  swear^  him'. 

Rule  V. — ^Words  and  clauses  connected  by  the  disjunctive 
or,  generally  require  the  rising  inflection  before  the  disjunct- 
ive, and  the  falling  after  it.     Where  several  words  are  thus 


ELEMENTS   OP   ELOCUTION.  9 

connected  in  the  same  clause^  the  rising  inflection  is  given  to 
all  except  the  last. 

Examples. — "Will  you  go'  or  stay^  ?    I  •wdU  go\ — Will  you  go  in  the  buggy',  or  the  car- 
riage', or  the  cars',  or  the  coach^  ?    I  will  go  in  the  cars\ 
He  may  study  law',  or  medicine',  or  divinity^ ;  or%  he  may  enter  into  trade\ 
The  baptism  of  John,  was  it  from  heaven',  or  of  men^  ? 
Did  he  travel  for  health',  or  for  pleasure^  ? 
Did  he  resemble  his  father',  or  his  mother^  ? 

Note  I. — When  the  disjunctive  or  is  made  emphatic,  with  the  falling 
inflection,  it  is  followed  by  the  rising  inflection,  in  accordance  with  the 
note  to  Eule  IV.;  as,  "He  must  have  traveled  for  health,  or^  pleas- 
ure'." 

Examples. — He  must  either  worK^^  or''  study'. — He  must  be  a  mechanic^  or^  a  lawyer'. 
— He  must  get  his  living  in  one  way,  or''  the  other'. 

Note  II. — When  or  is  used  conjunctively,  as  no  contrast  is  denoted  by 
it,  it  requires  the  rising  inflection  after  as  well  as  before  it,  except  when 
the  clause  or  sentence  expresses  a  completion  of  the  sense. 
Examples. — Did  he  give  you  money',  or  food',  or  clothing'  ?   No\  he  gave  me  nothing^. 

Rule  VI. — When  negation  is  opposed  to  affirmation,  the 
former  takes  the  rising  and  the  latter  the  falling  inflection,  in 
whatever  order  they  occur.  Comparison  and  contrast  (an- 
tithesis) come  under  the  same  head. 

Examples.— I  did  not  hear  him',  I  saw  him\ — I  said  he  was  a  good  soldier\  not^  a  good 

citizen'.— He  will  not  come  to-day',  but  to-mon'ow^ He  did  not  call  me',  but  you\ — He 

means  dutiful\  not  undutiful'. — I  come  to  biiry  Caesar \  not  to  praise  him'. 

This  is  no  time  for  a  tribunal  of  justice',  but  for  showing  mercy ^;  not  for  accusation', 
but  for  philanthropy^ ;  not  for  trial',  but  for  pardon^ ;  not  for  sentence  and  execution', 
but  for  compassion  and  kindness\ 

Comparison  and  Contrast.— Homer  was  the  greater  genius',  Virgil  the  better  artist^; 
in  the  one  we  most  admire  the  man',  in  the  other  the  work\  — There  were  tyrants  at 
home',  and  robbers  abroad  \ 

By  honor'  and  dishonor^ ;  by  evil  report'  and  good  report^ ;  as  deceivers',  and  yet  true^ ; 
as  unknown',  and  yet  well  known^ ;  as  dying',  and  behold  we  live^ ;  as  chastened',  and 
not  killed^;  as  sorrowful',  yet  always  rejoicing^;  as  poor',  yet  making  many  rich\*  as 
having  nothing',  yet  possessing  all  things\ 

When  our  vices  leave  ms',  we  flatter  ourselves  we  leave  them\ 

The  prodigal  robs  his  heir'^  the  miser  robs  himself  \ 

Note  I. — Negative  sentences  which  imply  a  continuance  of  thought,  al- 
though they  may  not  be  opposed  to  affirmation,  frequently  close  with  the 
rising  inflection ;  as, 

True  politeness  is  not  a  mere  compliance  with  arbitrary  custom'. 

Do  not  suppose  that  I  would  deceive  you'. 

These  things  do  not  make  your  government'. 

This  is  nearly  allied  in  character  to  Eule  IX. ;  and  such  examples  as 
those  under  Note  I.  may  be  considered  as  expressive  of  tender  emotion,  in 
opposition  to  stro7i<]/  emotion.     Affirmative  sentences  similar  to  the  fore- 

A2 


10  '  ELEMENTS  OF   ELOCUTION. 

going  require  the  rising  inflection,  in  accordance  with  Rule  IX.,  when 
they  express  tender  emotion ;  as, 

I  trust  you  will  hear  me'.    I  am  sure  you  are  mistaken'. 

But,  sir,  the  poor  must  not  starve' ;  they  must  be  taken  care  or. 

Note  II. — When,  in  contrasted  sentences,  negation  is  attended  with 
deep  and  calm  feeling,  it  requires  the  falling  inflection. 
EIXAMPLE.— We  are  perplexed',  but  not  in  despair^ ;  persecuted',  but  not  forsaken\ 

Rule  VII. — For  the  sake  of  variety  and  harmony,  the  last 
pause  but  one  in  a  sentence  is  usually  preceded  by  the  rising 
inflection. 

Examples.— Tlie  minor  longs  to  be  of  age^;  then  to  be  a  man  of  business^;  then  to  ar- 
rive at  honors' ;  then  to  retire\ 
Time  taxes  our  health',  our  limbs',  our  faculties',  our  strength',  and  our  features\ 

Note. — The  foregoing  rule  is  sometimes  departed  from  in  the  case  of 
an  emphatic  succession  of  particulars,  for  which,  see  Rule  VIII. 

In  the  second  example  above,  the  rising  inflection  is  given  to  the 
words  healthy  limbs,  etc.,  both  because  they  are  not  attended  with  strong 
emphasis,  and  because  they  are  followed  by  the  pause  of  suspension. 

Rule  VIII. — Is^.  A  Commencing  Series. 

In  an  emphatic  series  of  parties dars^  where  the  series  be- 
gins the  sentence,  but  does  not  either  end  it  or  form  com- 
plete sense,  every  particular  except  the  last  should  have  the 
falling  inflection. 

Example.  —  Our  disordered  hearts\  our  guilty  pas3ion8\  our  violent  prejudices^  and 
misplaced  desires',  are  the  instruments  of  the  trouble  which  we  endure. 

2d.  A  Concluding  Series. 
When  the  series  ends  the  sentence,  or  forms  complete 
sense,  every  particular  in  the  series,  except  the  last  hut  one., 
should  have  the  falling  inflection ;  and,  indeed,  all  should  have 
it,  if  the  closing  member  of  the  series  is  of  suflicient  length 
to  admit  a  pause  with  the  I'ising  inflection,  before  the  end. 

Example. — Charity  suffereth  long',  and  is  kind^ ;  charity  C7imeth  not' ,  charity  vaunt- 
cth  not  itself*;  is  not  puffed  up*;  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly^;  seeketh  not  her 
ow»n\*  is  not  e&Hily  provoked' ;  thinketh  no  eviV. 

Note. — The  degree  of  emphasis,  and  often  of  solemnity,  with  which  the 
successive  particulai*s  are  mentioned,  decides,  in  cases  of  the  pause  of  sus- 
pension (see  Rule  II.),  whether  the  rising  or  the  falling  inflection  is  to  be 
used.  Thus,  a  succession  of  particulars  which  one  reader  deems  unimpor- 
tant, will  be  read  by  him  throughout  with  the  rising  inflection,  while  an- 
other, feeling  more  derply,  will  use  the  falling  inflection.     Thus: 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELOCUTION.  11 

1.  Tlie  birds  sing',  the  Iambs  play',  the  grass  grows',  the  trees  are  green',  and  all  na- 
tare  is  beautifuP. 

2.  The  blind  see^;  the  lame  walk^;  the  lepers  are  cleansed^;  the  deaf  hear^ ;  the  dead 
are  raised^ ;  and  to  the  poor'  the  gospel  is  preached\ 

In  this  example  all  the  particulars  have  the  falling  inflection. 

The  first  line  in  Mark  Antony's  harangue  is  read  differently  by  equally 
good  readers ;  but  the  difference  arises  wholly  from  their  different  appre- 
ciation of  the  spirit  and  intention  of  the  speaker.     Thus : 

Friends',  Komans',  countrymen',  lend  me  your  earsM 
Friends',  Romans',  countrymen''^  lend  me  your  ears^ ! 

If  Antony  designed  to  characterize  "  countrymen"  with  peculiar  empha- 
sis, he  gave  it  the  falling  inflection,  otherwise  he  gave  the  word  no  greater 
prominence  than  the  preceding  words  "friends"  and  "Romans." 

Rule  IX. — Expressions  of  tender  emotion,  such  as  grief, 
pity,  kindness,  gentle  joy,  a  gentle  reproof,  gentle  appeal, 
gentle  entreaty  or  expostulation,  etc.,  commonly  require  a 
gentle  risiiig  inflection. 

Examples. — Mary' !  Mary' !  do^  not  do  so'. 

My  mother'!  when  I  learned  that  thou  wast  dead', 

Say\  wast  thou  conscious'  of  the  tears'  I  shed'  ? 

Hovered  thy  spirit  o'er  thy  sorrowing  son'. 

Wretch  even  then',  life's  journey  just  begun'? 

I  would  not  live  alway';  I  ask  not  to  stay. 

Where  storm  after  storm  rises  dark  o'er  the  way' ; 

I  would  not  live  alway,  thus  fettered  by  sin' ; 

Temptation  without,  and  corruption  within';— 
Is  your  father'  well',  the  old  man  of  whom  ye  spake" ?    Is  he'  yet  alive' ? 

Rule  X. — Expressions  of  strong  emotion,  such  as  the  lan- 
guage of  exclamation  (not  designed  as  a  question),  authority, 
surprise,  distress,  denunciation,  lamentation,  earnest  entreaty, 
command,  reproach,  terror,  anger,  hatred,  envy,  revenge,  etc., 
and  strong  affirmation,  require  the  falling  inflection. 

Examples.— What  a  piece  of  work  is  manM  How  noble  in  reasonM  how  infinite  in 
faculties^ !  in  action',  how  like  ah  anger !  in  apprehension',  how  like  a  God^  I 

My  lords,  I  am  amazed^ ;  yes,  my  lords,  1  am  amazed'^  at  his  Grace's  speech. 

Woe  unto  you  Pharisees^ !     Woe  unto  you  Scribes^ ! 

You  blocks\  you  8tones\  you  worse  than  senseless  things^ ! 

Go  to  the  ant\  thou  sluggard^ ;  consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise\ 

Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Mary'.    She  turned  herself,  and  said  unto  him,  RabbonP. 

I  tell  you,  though  ?/om\  though  all  the  worW^  though  an  angel  from  heaven''  should  de- 
clare the  truth  of  it,  I  could  not  believe  it. 

I  dare''  accusation.    I  defy^  the  honorable  gentleman. 

I'd  rather  be  a  dog''^  and  bay  the  woon",  than  such  a  Roman'. 


12  ELEMENTS    OF   ELOCUTION. 

Cab.  O  ye  gods^  I  ye  gods"^  I  must  I  endure  all  this'  ? 
liKtr.  All  this?  ay\  and  viore\ 

Note. — When  exclamatory  sentences  become  questions  they  require  the 
rising  inflection. 
Examples. — What  are  you  saying' \— Where  are  you  going'! 
They  planted  by  your  care' !    No^ !  your  oppressions  planted  them  in  America\ 

THE   CIRCUMFLEX   OK   WAYE. 

Rule  XI. — Hypothetical  expressions,  sarcasm,  and  irony, 
and  sentences  im2)li/in(/  a  comparison  or  contrast  that  is  not 
fully  expressed,  often  require  a  union  of  the  two  inflections 
on  the  same  syllable. 

Explanation. — In  addition  to  the  rising  and  falling  inflections,  there 
is  what  is  called  the  ci7'cumjiex  or  wave,  which  is  a  union  of  the  two  on  the 
same  syllable.  It  is  a  significant  twisting  or  waving  of  the  voice,  generally 
first  downward  and  then  upward,  but  sometimes  the  reverse,  and  is  at- 
tended with  a  sensible  protraction  of  sound  on  the  syllable  thus  inflected. 
It  is  marked  thus :  ("  " )  as,  "  I  may  possibly  go  to-morrow,  though  I  can 
not  go  to-day."     "  I  did  it  myself,  sir.     Surprising^ !     You  did  it !" 

Examples. — K  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved,  where  shall  the  imgodly  and  the  sin- 
ner appear  ? 
I  grant  you  I  i^s  dSwn,  and  out  of  breath ;  and  so  ivas  he. 
And  but  for  these  vile  guns,  he  would  himself  have  been  a  8oldier\ 
Queen.  Hamlet',  you  have  your  father  much  offended. 
Hamlet.  Madam',  yi'm  have  my  father  much  offended. 
■     Shylock.  If  it  will  feed  nothing  else,  it  will  feed  my  revSnge. 

Hath  a  d^>g  money'  ?    Is  it  possible  a  ciW  can  lend  two  thousand  ducats'  ? 

They  tell  us  to  be  moderate;  but  thSy,  tMy  are  to  revel  in  profusion. 

You  pretend  to  reason'  ?    You  don't  so  much  as  know  the  first  elements  of  reasoning. 

Note. — A  nice  distinction  in  sense  sometimes  depends  upon  the  right 
use  of  the  inflections. 
Examples.—"  I  did  not  give  a  sixpence'." 
"  I  did  not  give  a  8ixpence\" 

The  circumflex  on  sixpence  implies  that  I  gave  more  or  less  than  that 
sum ;  but  the  falling  inflection  on  the  same  word  implies  that  I  gave  noth- 
ing at  all. 

"Hume  said  he  would  go  twenty  miles  to  hear  WhXtefield  preach," 
(here  the  circumflex  implies  the  contrast),  "but  he  would  take  no  pains  to 
hear  an  ordinary'  preacher." 

"  A  man  who  is  in  the  daily  use  of  ardent  spirits,  if  he  does  not  become  a  drunkard^  is 
in  danger  of  losing  his  health  and  character." 

The  rising  inflection  on  the  closing  syllable  of  drunkard  would  pervert 
the  meaning  wholly,  and  assert  that,  in  order  to  preserve  health  and  char- 
acter, one  must  become  a  drunkard. 

"Tlic  dog  would  have  died  If  they  had  not  cut  off  his  head." 


ELEMENTS    OF   ELOCUTION.  13 

The  falling  inflection  on  died  would  make  the  cutting  off  his  head  nec- 
essary to  saving  his  life. 

A  physician  says  of  a  patient,  "  He  is  better^"  This  implies  a  positive 
amendment.  But  if  he  says,  "He  is  better',''  it  denotes  only  a  partial 
and  perhaps  doubtful  amendment,  and  implies,  "But  he  is  still  dangerous- 
ly sick." 

THE   MONOTONE. 

Rule  XII. — The  monotone,  which  is  a  succession  of  words 
on  the  same  key  or  pitch,  and  is  not  properly  an  inflection, 
is  often  employed  in  passages  of  solemn  denunciation,  sub- 
lime description,  or  expressing  deep  reverence  and  awe.  It 
is  marked  with  the  short  horizontal  dash  over  the  accented 
vowel,  i^^  It  must  not  be  mistaken  for  the  lon^  sound 
of  the  vowels,  as^ven  in  the  Pronouncing  Key. 


Examples. — And  one  cried  unto  another,  and  said,  H0I7,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  of 
hosts.    The  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  glory. 

Blessing,  honor,  glory,  and  power  be  unto  him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  to  the 
Lamb  forever  and  ever. 

In  thoughts  from  the  visions  of  the  night,  when  deep  sleep  falleth  on  men,  fear  cfime 
upon  me,  and  trembling  which  made  all  ray  bones  to  shake.  Then  a  spirit  passed  before 
my  face ;  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  up.  It  stood  still,  but  I  could  not  discern  the  form 
thereof:  an  Image  was  before  my  eyes,  there  was  silence,  and  I  heard  a  voice,  saying. 
Shall  mortal  ^uan  be  more  just  than  God?    Shall  a  man  be  more  pure  than  his  Maker? 

EMPHASIS. 

JEmpJiasis  is  a  forcible  stress  of  voice  upon  some  word  or 
words  in  a  sentence  on  account  of  their  significancy  and  im- 
portance. Sometimes  it  merely  gives  lyrolonged  loudness  to 
a  word,  but  generally  the  various  inflections  are  connected 
with  it.  Thus  it  not  only  gives  additional /orce  to  language, 
but  the  sense  often  depends  upon  it. 

Examples. —I  did  not  say  he  stinick  me' ;  I  said  he  struck  JoJm\ 

I  did  not  say  he  struck  me;  I  said  he  pushed  me. 

I  did  not  say  M  struck  me;  I  said  John  did. 

I  did  not  say  he  struck  me ;  but  I  wrote  it. 

i  did  not  say  he  stnick  me ;  but  John  said  he  did. 

He  that  can  not  bear  a  jest,  should  never  make"^  one. 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  Mde  one's  faults  as  to  mend  them. 

CASsnjs.  I  may  do  that  I  shall  be  sorry  for. 

Bktjtus,  You  have'^  done  that  you  should  be  sorry  for, 

(The  varied  effects  of  emphatic  stress,  and  emphatic  inflection,  are  so  fully 
shown  in  the  Beading  Lessons  of  all  the  Readers,  as  to  need  no  further  il- 
lustration.) 


14  ELEMENTS   OF   ELOCUTION. 


KEY 

TO  THE  SOUNDS  OF  THE  LETTERS,  AS  DESIGNATED  IN  THE  SCHOOL  AND 
FAMILY  READERS. 

The  system  of  pronunciation  here  adopted  is  that  of  Noah  Webster,  as 
contained  in  the  later  and  improved  editions  of  his  Dictionary ;  and  the 
indicative  marks  used  are  the  same  as  those  found  in  Webster's  late  "Pro- 
nouncing and  Defining  Dictionary,"  edited  by  Prof.  Goodrich. 

A,  long^  as  in  fame,  aim,  day,  break,  cake,  make ;  heard  also  in  sail,  veil,  gauge,  inveigh. 
A,  short,  as  in  fat,  at,  caiTy,  tariff;  heard  also  in  plaid,  bade,  raillery,  etc. 
X,  Italian,  as  in  fiir,  father,  biilm,  piith ;  heard  also  in  heiirt,  hearth,  iiunt,  haunch. 
A,  as  in  care,  air,  share,  pair,  bear,  fair,  parent ;  heard  also  in  where,  heir. 
A,  as  in  last,  ask,  grass,  diince,  branch,  staff,  graft,  pass,  chance,  chant. 
A,  sound  of  broad  a,  as  in  all,  call,  talk,  haul,  swarm,  awe ;  heard  also  in  naught,  taught. 
A,  short  sound  of  broad  «,  as  in  what,  wash.     This  coincides  with  the  o  in  not. 
E,  long,  as  in  me,  mete,  scheme;  heard  also  in  beard,  field,  leisure,  brief,  seize,  key. 
K,  short,  as  in  met,  merry;  heard  also  in  feather,  heifer,  leopard,  any,  friend,  guess. 
E,  like  d  in  care ;  as  in  there,  their,  heir,  where,  ere,  e'er,  wh^fe'er,  etc. 
K,  short  e  before  r,  as  in  term,  verge,  verdure,  prefer,  earth. 

J,  like  long  e,  as  in  pique,  machine,  mien,  marine.    This  is  the  sound  of  the  French  i. 
I,  long,  as  in  pine,  fine.  Isle;  heard  also  in  height,  aisle,  oblige,  microscope. 
i,  short,  as  in  pin,  Tn,  pit;  heard  also  in  sieve,  since,  been  (bin),  etc. 
1,  short,  verging  toward  u,  as  in  bird,  firm,  virgin,  dirt. 

o,  long,  as  in  note,  oh,  no,  dome;  heard  also  in  course,  yeoman,  roU,  port,  door,  etc. 
6,  short,  as  in  not,  bond ;  heard  also  in  coral,  Corinth.     It  coincides  with  the  a  in  what. 
0,  like  short  u,  as  in  dove,  love,  s6n,  done,  worm;  heard  also  in  does  (duz),  n6ne  (nun), 
o,  like  long  oo,  as  in  priive,  dii,  move,  tomb,  lose,  who,  to. 
O,  like  short  oo,  as  in  wolf,  Wolsey.     This  sound  coincides  with  that  of  w  in  bull. 
00  (short  00),  as  in  foot,  book,  wool,  wood, 

tJ,  long,  as  in  mute,  duty,  cr.be,  unite,  has  the  sound  of  yu,  slightly  approaching  yoo  when 
it  begins  a  syllable ;  but  in  other  cases  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  the  sound  of  the  y. 
u,  short,  as  in  but,  tub,  sfin ;  heard  also  in  does  (duz),  blood  (blud),  etc. 
fr,  long,  nearly  approaching  oo  when  preceded  by  r,  as  rule,  riide,  ruby. 
U,  like  00  (short  oo),  as  in  fiiU,  biiU,  pull,  push,  put  (not  put). 
JE  (italic)  marks  a  letter  as  silent,  as  fallen,  token. 

CONSONANTS. 

C  c  soft  (unmarked),  like  s  sharp,  as  in  cede,  mercy. 

C  €  Jiard,  like  k,  as  in  call,  carry. 

C;il  ch  (unmarked),  like  tnh,  as  in  child,  choose. 

cll  Ch  soft,  like  sh,  as  in  machine,  chaise. 

€11  ch  hard,  like  k,  as  in  chorus,  epoch. 

G  g  hard  (unmarked),  as  in  go,  gallant. 

(i  ^  soft,  like  j,  as  in  gentle,  aged. 

S  8  sharp  (unmarked),  as  in  same,  gas. 

iS  «i  soft,  like  z,  as  in  ha*,  amu»c. 

Til  th  shaip  (unmarked),  as  in  thing,  path. 

Til  th  flat  or  vocal,  as  in  tliinc,  their. 

N"  like  ng,  as  in  lon'ger,  con^gress. 

PII  like  /  (unmarked),  as  In  phaeton,  sylph. 

QU  like  kic  (unmarked),  as  in  queen,  inquiry. 

WII  like  hip  (unmarked),  as  in  when,  while. 


FOURTH   READER. 


PART  I. 

FIRST  DIVISION  OF  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY 
AND  HEALTH  * 

(This  subject  is  continued  in  the  Fifth  Render.) 


LESSON  I. 
THE  FRAME-WORK  OF  THE  HUMAN  BODY. 

1.  All  persons  know  how  important  it  is  that  the  frame- 
work of  a  house,  such  as  the  wallsj  the  posts,  the  beams,  the 
braces,  and  the  rafters,  should  be  made  of  strong  materials, 
and  be  well  put  together.    If  there  should  be  any  thing  wrong 

•  General  Physiologt  is  the  science  which  treats  of  the  properties  and  functions  of 
all  livirifi  things,  which  include  animals  and  plants. 

Human  Physiology  treats  of  the  functions  or  offices  of  all  the  different  parts  or  organs 
in  the  human  body,  and  the  laws  which  govern  them ;  such  as  the  action  of  the  muscles, 
the  circulation  of  the  blood,  digestion,  breathing,  etc.  A  knowledge  of  these  functions 
requires  some  knowledge  of  the  structure  or  anatomy  of  the  parts,  and  the  whole  is  the 
basis  of  that  department  of  medicine  which  treats  of  the  pi'eservation  of  Health. 


16  willson's  POUBTH  EEADER.  Part  I. 

in  the  frame- work,  or  if  the  materials  should  be  poor,  of  what 
use  would  the  building  be  after  it  should  be  completed  ? 

2.  The  human  body  has  a  frame- work  which  sustains  the 
house  we  live  in.  This  house  of  ours,  unlike  the  houses  of 
men's  making,  is  designed  to  be  moved  from  place  to  place, 
and  to  be  put  in  many  different  positions.  It  must  be  a 
strong  and  curiously  planned  frame-work  that  can  support 
such  a  house  without  being  broken  or  injured  by  the  n^ny 
movements  required  of  it. 

3.  And  yet  if  this  house  of  ours  be  properly  taken  care  of, 
the  frame-work  will  support  it  and  carry  it  about  a  great 
many  years ;  and,  what  is  still  more  curious,  if  any  of  the 
parts  of  the  house,  such  as  a  door,  a  hinge,  or  a  post,  its  in- 
ner apartments  or  its  outer  covering,  get  a  little  worn  or  in- 
jured by  use,  each  has  the  power,  with  a  little  aid  from  the 
other  parts,  of  repairing  itself. 

4.  The  hones  of  the  body  constitute  the  movable  frame- 
work of  which  we  have  spoken.  There  are  a  great  many  of 
these  bones — ^not  less  than  two  hundred  and  eight  in  number, 
besides  the  teeth — and  they  are  joined  together  very  curious- 
ly, and  kept  in  their  places  by  a  great  variety  of  braces,  and 
bands,  and  cords,  and  pulleys,  that  hold  the  frame-work  firmly, 
while  they  allow  it  to  move  freely  in  almost  every  direction. 

5.  This  curious  frame-work  is  sometimes  called  the  skele- 
ton, Nothing  ever  made  by  man  can  compare  with  it  in 
beauty  and  excellence  of  workmanship.  At  the  upper  part 
of  it  is  what  is  called  the  shull^  which  is  composed  of  eight 
bony  plates  closely  interlocked^  on  their  edges.  It  covers  the 
top  of  the  head,  like  a  bowl  or  basin,  giving  support  to  the 
scalp  or  skin  of  the  head,  and  the  hair,  and  protecting  from 
injury  the  hrain^  which  lies  beneath  it. 

6.  The  brain  is  the  seat  of  thought.  It  is  there  that  we 
think,  and  will,  and  reason ;  that  we  reflect  upon  the  past, 
and  make  plans  for  the  future.  The  brain  is  a  very  delicate 
organ ;  and,  as  it  requires  the  very  greatest  care  and  protec- 
tion, it  is  lodged  in  the  hollow  of  the  skull,  which  is  the 
strongest  and  safest  room  in  the  house  we  live  in.  This 
lodging-place  has  been  very  appropriately  called  "  the  chdm- 
hrr  of  the  souV 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  17 

7.  On  the  front  side  of  this  chamber  are  two  openings, 
which  have  been  called  "  the  windows  of  the  soul."  They 
are  placed  with  great  care  in  little  hollows  called  sockets,  so 
as  to  be  as  little  exposed  as  possible  to  danger  from  blows 
that  might  chance  to  fall  against  that  side  of  the  chamber ; 
and,  by  a  Httle  roof  that  projects  over  them,  they  are  screen- 
ed^  from  the  dust,  the  wind,  and  the  rain.  These  windows 
are  the  most  curious  and  most  wonderful  pieces  of  workman- 
ship that  can  be  conceived,  but  we  have  not  time  to  describe 
them  here. 

8.  But  besides  the  bones  of  the  skull,  there  are  no  less  than 
fourteen  bones  of  the  face,  and  four  small  bones  of  the  ear, 
and  all  together  make  up  the  frame-work  of  the  Tiead^  which 
rests  upon  still  another  set  of  bones,  called  the  spine,  back- 
bone, or  spinal  column.  This  is  a  very  important  part  of 
the  frame- work  of  the  house  we  live  in,  and  we  shall  here- 
after see  that  it  is  very  apt  to  get  out  of  repair  by  bad  usage. 

9.  This  spinal  column,  which  is  the  chief  support  of  the 
body,  is  composed  of  no  less  than  twenty-four  bones  placed 
one  upon  another,  and  so  closely  interlocked  and  bound  to- 
gether that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  separate  them.  Yet 
this  column  is  very  pliable  and  elastic,  for  it  can  be  bent  in 
all  directions  without  injury;  and  between  the  bones  are 
little  cushions,  formed  of  what  is  called  cartilage^  which 
yield  to  pressure  like  India-rubber,  and  spring  back  to  their 
natural  position  when  the  pressure  is  removed. 

10.  Branching  forward,  and  obliquely*  downward  from  the 
sides  of  this  spinal  column,  are  the  ribs,  twelve  on  each  side, 
most  of  them  fastened  to  the  breast-bone  in  front.  They 
give  protection  to  the  liver,  lungs,  heart,  and  large  blood- 
vessels. Then  there  are  the  bones  of  the  hands  and  the  arms, 
the  latter  supported  at  the  shoulder  by  the  collar-bone,  the 
bones  of  the  pelvis  at  the  lower  part  of  the  body,  and  the 
bones  of  the  legs  and  feet ;  and  thus  we  have  the  frame-work 
of  the  body  completed. 

11.  The  manner  in  which  all  the  pieces  of  this  frame-work 
are  joined  together,  and  the  means  by  which  they  are  made 
to  move  easily  in  various  directions,  are  exceedingly  curious. 
Thus  the  shoulder  has  ouc  kind  of  joint,  and  the  elbow  an- 


-    18 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH   EEADER. 


Paet  I. 


other,  while  the  joints  of  the  wrist  and  fingers  are  diiFerent 
still,  each  adajDted  to  the  motions  which  it  is  required  to 
perform.  They  ara  also  firmly  held  together  by  strong  bands 
or  ligaments,^  and  the  ends  of  the  bones  are  very  hard  and 
smooth,  and  kept  constantly  oiled  that  they  may  not  rub 
harshly  upon  each  other.  All  these  things  show  very  clear 
ly  the  wisdom  and  skill  of  Him  who  planned  the  frame-work 
of  the  house  we  live  in. 

"This  curious  frame  betrays^  the  power  divine, 
With  God's  own  image  stamped  on  every  line." 


In-ter-lockep',  clasping  each  other. 

Screened',  protected  or  sheltered  from 

injury. 

Oab'-ti-lage,  gristle. 

OB-i.TQtrE'-T.Y,  not  in  a  right  line ;  not 

perpendicularly. 


5  Lig'-a-ment,  that  which  ties  one  thing  to 
another.  The  ligaments  are  softer  than 
the  cartilages. 

6  Be-tbavs',  shows  ;  exhibits. 


Fig.  1. 


THE   HUMAN    RKET.ETON. 


Sic.  The  skull,  or  cra'-ni-um. 

sp.  The  spine,  or  spinal  column,  composed  of  24  bones. 

Each  piece  is  called  a  vert'-e-bra. 
cl.  The  collar-bone,  or  clav'-i-cle. 

8C.  The  shoulder-blade,  or  KcajZ-u-la.    It  is  a  flat,  thin, 
triangular  bone,  situated  on  the  upper  and  back 
part  of  the  chest.     It  can  not  be  seen  from  the 
front. 
8.  The  breast-bone,  or  ster'-niim. 
r.  Ribs,  branching  out  from  the  spinal  column. 
h.  Upper  bone  of  the  arm,  or  hu'-mer-us. 
ra.  Outer  bone  of  the  fore-arm,  or  ra'-di-us. 
u.  Inner  bone  of  the  fore-arm,  or  ul'-na. 
c.  The  wrist,  composed  of  eight  bones,  called  the  car  - 

m.  The  palm  of  the  hand,  composed  of  five  bones,  call- 
ed the  tnet-a-car' -pus. 
ph.  The  finger-bones,  or  pha-lan'-ges. 
2)1.  Pelvis  bones,  called  the  in-nom-i-nn'-ta. 
8Li.  The  m'-crum.    It  connects  Avith  the  lower  vertebra, 

and  is  bound  by  ligaments  to  the  inuominata. 
h.  The  hip-joint. 
/.  Thigh-bone,  or  fe'-mur. 
p.  Knee-pan,  or  2)Cl-teV-la. 
k.  Knee-joint. 
t.  Shin-bone,  or  tib'-i-a. 
fi.  Small  bone  of  the  leg,  or  fib'-u-la. 
ta.  Instep,  or  tar'-mis. 

me.  Bones  of  the  middle  of  the  foot,  or  met-a-tar'-8us. 
p8.  Bones  of  the  toes,  or  pka-lan'-gea. 

The  SKur.i-,  a  very  important  part  of  the  human  body,  as  it  incloses  and  protects  the 
brain,  is  composed  of  eight  boncn,  whose  ragged  edges,  called  swf'-wrcs,  interlock  with 
each  other.  Each  of  these  bones  is  formed  of  two  i)lates  of  bony  matter  united  by  a 
spongy  portion  of  bone.  This  formation  interrupts,  in  a  measure,  the  vibrations  pro- 
duced by  external  blows  or  falls,  and  prevents  fractures  from  extending  as  far  aa  they 
otherwise  would  in  one  continued  bone. 

The  bones  of  the  upper  and  lower  limbs  are  enlarged  at  each  extremity,  as  seen  in  the 
drawing,  thus  affording  additional  room,  where  most  needed,  for  the  attachment  of  the 
muscular  tendons  and  ligaments  which  connect  one  bono  with  another. 


1st  Diy.  OF HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AITD   HEALTH.  19 


LESSON  n. 

THE  BONES,  AND  THE  INJURIES  TO  WHICH  THEY 
ARE  LIABLE. 

1.  The  bones  are  composed  of  both  animal  and  earthy  ma- 
terials. The  animal  part  gives  them  life,  and  the  eartliy  part 
gives  them  strength ;  and  both  kinds  of  material  are  siipphed 
by  the  blood.  If,  then,  there  be  but  little  blood  in  tne  sys- 
tem, or  if  it  move  slowly  and  feebly,  it  will  not  supply  a  suffi- 
cient quantity  of  this  building  material. 

^.  In  infancy  the  bones,  being  then  composed  mostly  of  an- 
imal matter,  are  soft  and  yielding ;  but  as  the  child  advances 
in  years  they  become  gradually  firmer,  stronger,  and  harder, 
and  in  very  old  age  they  sometimes  become  so  brittle  as  to 
be  easily  broken.  So  readily  do  the  bones  in  early  life  yield 
to  pressure,  that  they  are  often  permanently  bent  out  of  shape 
by  careless  or  ignorant  management;  and  deformity,^  poor 
health,  and  sometimes  early  death,  are  the  unfortunate  results. 

3.  The  spinal  column,  in  its  natural  position,  curves  back- 
ward and  forward,  but  not  from  side  to  side.  This  arrange- 
ment of  the  bones,  when  connected  with  the  cushion-like  car- 
tilages between  them,  gives  to  the  body  great  ease  and  elas- 
ticity^  of  movement,  and  prevents  many  injuries  to  which  it 
would  otherwise  be  exposed. 

4.  The  natural  position  of  the  body  is  always  the  correct 
one ;  and  when  by  accident  or  design  the  body  is  allowed  to 
grow  differently,  one  of  God's  laws  is  violated,  and  we  are  sure 
to  be  punished  for  it.  In  the  growth  of  our  bodies  we  may 
aid  nature,  but  we  can  not  with  safety  act  in  opposition  to  it. 
We  may  cultivate  the  habit  of  sitting  and  walking  in  an  erect 
position,  and  thereby  aid  nature  in  providing  for  the  proper 
growth  of  the  spinal  column. 

5.  But  children  often  sit  at  their  desks  in  the  school-room, 
or  stand  during  recitation,  in  a  stooping  position,  or  one  that 
allows  the  body  to  curve  sidewise.  The  bones  gradually 
harden  or  grow  in  this  position,  until  at  length  a  confirmed 
stoop  or  a  curvature^  of  the  spind  is  produced,  and  the  body 


20  WILLSON'f  FOUBTH   EEADEK.  Pakt  I. 

loses  that  erect  posture  which  is  essential  not  only  to  manly- 
beauty,  but  to  health  also.  By  this  carelessness  an  import- 
ant law  of  nature  is  violated,  and  defoi-mity  and  suffering  are 
the  penalty  paid  for  it.     (See  Figs.  2  and  3). 

6.  Many  of  the  Chinese,  thinking  that  a  very  small  foot  is 
a  great  beauty,  bandage  the  feet  of  their  female  children  so 
as  to  prevent  the  growth  of  the  bones.  The  feet  then,  after 
a  great  amount  of  suffering,  become  mere  awkward  stumps, 
scarcely  able  to  support  the  body,  and  almost  wholly  incapa- 
ble of  being  used  in  walking.  Some  of  the  North  American 
Indians  flatten  the  foreheads  of  their  children  by  pressure, 
because  they  think  a  very  flat  forehead  is  a  mark  of  beauty ; 
and  some  mothers,  even  among  civilized  and  Christian  peo- 
ple, have  the  equally  bad  taste  and  cruelty  to  compress*-^d 
distort  the  bodies  of  their  daughters,  by  cords  and  bandages, 
to  make  their  waists  smaller  than  their  Maker  designed  them. 
The  results  of  this  cruel  and  wicked  practice,  when  long  per- 
severed in,  are  weak,  miserable,  deformed  bodies,  and,  fre- 
quently, wasting  consumption^  and  early  death. 

1.  The  bones  are  found  to  mcrease  in  size  and  strength,  the 
same  as  other  parts  of  the  body,  by  a  proper  amount  of  exer- 
cise ;  while  they  become  weak  by  inaction,  and  finally  dwin- 
dle away.  Thus  the  bones  of  the  laboring  man  are  hard  and 
strong,  while  the  bones  of  those  who  neglect  exercise  are 
loose  in  texture,  weak,  and  deficient  in  size.  The  cause  of 
these  results  is,  that  exercise  makes  the  blood  flow  more 

rig.  2. 


\  ^  J.      . 


A  person  who  sits  facing  an  ascending  c?e«fc  should  sit  in  an  erect  position,  as  in  Fig.  3, 
and  not  allow  the  body  to  curve  sidewise,  as  in  Fig.  2.  For  the  purposes  of  trriting,  how- 
ever, a  level  table,  and  right  side  to  the  tablo,  with  an  erect  position,  and  paper  siiuare 
with  the  table,  are  perhaps  preferable ;  although  many  writuig  masters  still  adhere  to 
the  old  rule,  "  left  side  to  the  desk,"  which  necessitates  a  leaning  posture,  and  imposes 
a  continual  strain  upon  the  muscles  whfch  support  the  back. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  21 

briskly,  and  deposits  in  the  bony  structure  an  increased  quan- 
tity of  such  materials  as  bone  is  made  of. 

8.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  a  child  be  put  to  severe,  con- 
tinued labor,  the  bones  ^vill  fill  up  and  harden  too  rapidly 
before  they  attain  their  natural  growth,  and  the  child  will  be 
dwarfed  in  stature.  If  exercise  be  taken  with  moderation, 
it  will  conduce^  to  the  growth  and  strength  of  the  whole 
body ;  but  if  it  be  too  violent,  and  be  too  long  continued 
without  the  intervals  of  rest  which  nature  requires,  it  will  be 
productive  of  evil.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  true  rule  is,  "  Ex- 
cess in  nothmg ;  moderation  in  all  things." 


1  De-f6em'-i-ty,  crookedness  ;  distortion. 

2  E-i.a8-t!c'-i-ty,  a  springy  or  elastic  con- 
dition of  the  body. 

'  €uBv'-A-TDEE,  bending. 


*  €6m-pee88',  to  press  together;  to  make 
smaller. 

5  €oN-8UMp'-TiON,  a  disease  of  the  lungs  at- 
tended with  wasting  of  the  flesh. 

6  Con-dlcb',  promote ;  contribute ;  lead  to. 


LESSON  m. 

ORGANS  THAT  MOVE  THE  BODY.— THE  MUSCLES. 

1.  While  the  bones  give  support  and  general  form  to  the 
body,  the  instruments  by  which  it  is  moved  are  the  muscles. 
They  are  what  in  animals  is  known  as  flesh,  or  lean  meat,  as 
distinguished  from  fat,  bone,  sinew,^  or  cartilage.  The  mus- 
cles are  made  of  bundles  of  very  fine  threads,  called  muscular 
fibres^  placed  side  by  side,  and  bound  up  in  a  thin  skin-like 
covering  or  sheath.  All  these  threads  are  elastic,  so  that 
when  they  are  stretched  out  they  incline  to  shrink  back 
again,  like  India-rubber.  At  the  ends  of  the  muscles  these 
threads  are  changed  into  strong  tendons  or  cords,  which  are 
firmly  fastened  to  the  bones. 

2.  The  muscles  are  spread  all  over  the  body.  In  the  limbs 
they  are  placed  around  the  bones,  one  end  of  a  muscle  be- 
ing usually  attached  by  its  tendon  to  one  bone,  and  the  other 
end  to  another.  In  the  trunk  or  body  they  are  spread  out  to 
inclose  cavities  f  and  there  they  constitute  a  defensive  wall, 
readily  yielding  to  pressure,  but  resuming  their  original  po- 
sition when  the  pressure  is  removed. 

3.  There  are  more  than  five  hundred  muscles  in  the  human 


# 


22 


willson's  fourth  reader. 


Part  I. 


body,  of  various  shapes,  bound  around,  twining  among,  and 
lapping  over  each  other,  and  running  in  almost  every  possi- 
ble direction,  according  to  their  various  uses.  Every  move- 
ment that  is  made  by  any  part  of  the  body  requires  the  ac- 
tion of  at  least  two  muscles,  one  to  draw  the  part  one  way, 
and  the  opposing  muscle  to  yield  to  the  movement,  or  to 
draw  the  part  back  agam.  The  muscles  are  directed  how  to 
act  by  the  nerves^  which  run  from  the  brain  to  all  parts  of 
the  body. 

4.  We  can  not  swallow  our  food,  draw  the  breath,  move 
the  eyes  or  head,  bend  the  body,  or  move  the  limbs,  without 
the  employment  of  numerous  muscles.  It  is  by  their  action 
that  the  farmer  cultivates  his  fields,  the  mechanic  wields  his 
tools,  the  sportsman  pursues  his  game,  the  orator  gives  ut- 


Fig.  4,  ghowing  the  bones,  and  only  two  of  the  mnscleg  of  tlie  arm, 
is  a  representation  of  the  manner  in  which  all  the  joints  of  the  body 
are  moved.  Here  h  is  the  upper  bone  of  the  arm,  and  ra  and  u  the 
bones  of  the  fore-arm.  When  the  muscle  b  contracts,  the  muscle  c, 
relaxes,  and  the  fore-arm  is  raised,  turning  on  the  joint  d.  When 
c  contracts,  and  h  relaxes,  the  fore-arm  is  extended. 

In  I'ig.  5  are  shown  the  muscles  of  the  arm.  The  muscles  marked 
5  and  6  are  used  in  moving  the  wrist.  The  one  marked  8  extendi 
all  the  fingers;  wliile  another,  on  the  other  side  of  the  arm,  closes 
them.  The  one  marked  9  moves  the  little  finger  ;  13  turns  the  hand 
sidewise,  and  also  moves  the  arm  ;  10  and  14  turn  the  hand  ;  15  is 
the  strong  band  that  holds  the  muscles  firmly  in  place  around  the 
wrist. 

Fig.  6  shows  a  number  of  the  small  muscular  fibres,  a,  rt,  &,  torn 

from  larger  bundles.     These  are  magnified  two  hundred  times  their 

real  size.     These  fibres  are  really  formed  of  little  cells  connected 

with  each  other. 

At  Fig.  7  is  a  greatly  magnified  representation  of  three  of  the 

muscular  fibres  cut 
across  (transverse- 
),  and  showing 
shape  of  the 
cells,  l^ressure  has 
caused  these  cells 
to  lose  their  round- 
ed shape. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND    HEALTH.  23 

terance  to  his  thoughts,  the  lady  touches  the  keys  of  the  pi- 
ano, and  the  young  are  whirled  in  the  mazy  dance.  It  will 
readily  be  seen,  therefore,  how  much  of  the  pleasures  and  the 
employments  of  Ufe  depend  upon  their  healthy  action. 

5.  Some  of  the  muscles,  such  as  those  which  move  the  fin- 
gers, limbs,  and  trunk,  act  under  the  government  of  the  will ; 
but  others,  such  as  those  which  are  used  in  breathing,  and 
those  used  in  moving  the  blood  through  the  system,  act 
wholly  without  the  necessity  of  mental  control.  The  former 
are  called  voluntary^  and  the  latter  involmitary  muscles. 
Can  any  reason  be  given  why  the  involuntary  muscles  should 
not  be  under  the  control  of  the  will  ? 

6.  Like  all  other  parts  of  the  body,  the  muscles  are  nour- 
ished by  the  blood,  one  set  of  blood-vessels,  the  arteries,  car- 
rying thes  nourishing  particles  where  they  are  needed,  and 
another  set,  the  veins,  removing  the  decayed  portions  that 
are  no  longer  of  any  use.  Thus  the  blood  is  constantly  de- 
positing new  matter,  and  removing  that  which  is  old  and 
worthless. 

V.  The  materials  of  which  a  muscle  is  composed  are  con- 
stantly passing  away,  like  water  under  the  influence  of  the 
noonday  sun,  and  if  no  exercise  be  given  to  the  muscle  it 
soon  becomes  thin  and  flabby,^  it  grows  weak,  and  ere  long 
loses  its  power  of  action.  In  this  case  the  waste  of  matter 
is  greater  than  the  supply.  But  if  projoer  exercise  be  given 
to  the  muscle,  the  movement  of  the  blood  in  the  artery  which 
nourishes  it  is  quickened,  an  abundant  supply  of  nourishment 
is  provided,  and  the  muscle  attains  its  perfect  shape  and  full 
power  of  action.  If  only  a  few  of  the  muscles  of  the  body 
are  exercised,  they  alone  become  firm,  compact,  and  strong, 
while  the  others  dwindle  away. 

8.  The  effect  of  vigorous*  exercise  of  one  set  of  muscles  is 
seen  in  the  arms  of  the  blacksmith,  which  not  only  increase 
in  size,  but  become  firm  and  hard ;  while,  perhaps,  other  mus' 
cles  of  the  body,  called  less  frequently  into  use,  are  feebly  de- 
veloped.^ The  hands  and  arms  of  the  student  are  usually 
small  and  soft,  and  of  a  sickly  hue,  merely  because,  not  being 
accustomed  to  vigorous  exercise,  they  do  not  i*eceive  a  suita- 
ble supply  of  nourishment. 


24  WILLSOn's  fourth  eeader.  Part  I. 

9.  The  same  law  prevails  throughout  the  entire  body.  If 
little  or  no  exercise  be  taken,  the  whole  body  will  be  literal- 
ly starved ;  for  while  the  blood  flows  in  a  sluggish  stream  it 
very  poorly  performs  its  office  of  building  up  the  system  and 
keeping  it  in  repair. 

10.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the  importance  of  exercise,  sev- 
eral cautions  are  necessary  respecting  it.  The  young,  es- 
pecially, should  be  guarded  against  taking  too  severe  exer- 
cise, and  against  continuing  it  too  long ;  for  there  is  a  point 
beyond  which  the  muscles  will  be  enfeebled,  rather  than 
strengthened,  by  exertion.  Their  healthy  condition  requires 
that  exercise  should  be  moderate  at  the  commencement,  and 
never  continued  so  as  to  produce  a  feeling  of  exhaustion.^ 

11.  "  Begin  with  gentle  toils ;  and  as  your  limbs 

Grow  firm,  to  hardier,  by  just  steps,  aspire. 
The  prudent,  even  in  eveiy  moderate  walk, 
At  first  but  saunter ;  and  by  slow  degrees 
Increase  their  pace. 

When,  all  at  once,  from  indolence  to  toil 
You  spring,  the  fibres,  by  the  hasty  shock, 
Are  strained  and  tired,  before  their  oily  coats, 
Compressed,  can  pour  the  lubricating  balm. 
Besides,  collected  in  the  passive  veins, 
The  foaming  blood  a  sudden  torrent  rolls, 
O'erpowers  the  heart,  and  deluges  the  lungs 
With  sudden  inundation." 

12.  An  erect  attitude  while  sitting,  standing,  or  walking, 
is  found  to  be  most  conducive  to  health,  and  to  be  attended 
with  far  less  exhaustion  of  the  muscles  than  a  stooping  posi- 
tion ;  for  in  the  former  case  the  muscles,  being  well  balanced, 
mutually  support  each  other.  The  spinal  column  should  be 
kept  erect,  so  far  as  possible,  whatever  occupations  we  may 
be  engaged  in,  and  the  shoulders  should  be  kept  thrown  back, 
that  the  chest  may  become  broad  and  full.  If  a  stooping 
posture  be  acquired  in  youth,  we  may  be  very  certain  that 
the  deformity  will  continue  to  increase  throughout  life. 

13.  But  whether  the  body  be  at  rest,  or  in  action,  no  one 
position  of  the  muscles  should  be  continued  until  weariness 
results  from  it.  How  often  is  it  noticed  that  small  children, 
after  sitting  a  sliort  time,  become  restless.     Nature  is  warn- 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH. 


25 


ing  them  of  the  danger  of  violating  her  laws.  A  sitting  or  a 
standing  posture  occasions  a  continued  strain  upon  certain 
sets  of  muscles ;  and  rest,  or  change  of  j)Osition,  is  required  for 
their  relief.  To  one  who  has  long  been  sitting,  walking  or 
running  will  often  give  the  needed  rest.  We  may  learn  from 
this  the  importance  of  giving  to  young  and  feeble  children  at 
school  frequent  out-door  recreation.' 

14.  Moreover,  the  muscles  should  be  exercised  in  pure  air, 
and  in  the  light,  neither  immediately  before  nor  immediately 
after  severe  mental  toil ;  and  they  should  be  rested  gradual- 
ly, by  continuing  some  gentle  exercise,  when  they  have  been 
vigorously  used,  and  are  greatly  fatigued.  They  should  never 
be  so  compressed  by  bandages  or  clothing  as  to  restrain  their 
free  motions,  unless  the  desire  be  to  starve  them  into  prema- 
ture^ decay.  The  pressure  of  tight  dresses,  in  females,  enfee- 
bles the  muscles,  and  is  a  common  cause  of  projecting  shoul- 
ders, curvature  of  the  spinal  column,  and  consumption.  What 
then  shall  we  say  of  those  fashions  and  modes  of  dress  that 
violate  all  physiological^  laws  ?  May  they  not  justly  be  re- 
garded as  enemies  of  the  human  race  ? 

15.  "  Knowest  thou  the  nature  of  the  human  frame, 

That  world  of  wonders  more  than  we  can  name'  ? 

Say\  has  thy  busy,  curious  eye  surveyed 

The  proofs  of  boundless  wisdom  there  displayed'  ? 

Each  fibre  ranged  with  such  amazing  skill 

That  every  muscle  may  attend  thy  will'  ? 

How  every  tendon  acts  upon  its  hone, 

And  how  the  nerves  receive  their  nicer  tone'  ? 

Convey  the  keen  vibration^"  of  the  sense. 

And  give  the  wakeful  mind  intelligence'  ? 

How  some  strong  guard  each  vital  part  sustains, 

How  flows  the  purple  balsam'^'^  through  the  veins'?" 


*  STn'-ew  (sia'-nu),  a  tendon. 

2  €av'-i-ties,  hollows. 

3  Flab'-by,  soft  ;  hanging  loose. 

*  Vig'-or-ous,  active  ;  powerful. 
5  De-vel'-oped,  filled  out  in  size. 

*  Ex-haust'-ion,  weariness;    deprived  fti 
strength. 


■?  Re€-re-a'-tion,  amiisement ;  diversion. 

8  Pre'-ma-tCke,  before  the  proper  time. 

9  Puy8-i-o-log'-i-€al,   pertaining  to   the 
laws  of  physiology  or  health. 

10  Vr-BE|.'-TioN,  supposed  motion  of  the 
nervous  fluid. 

11  Bal'-sam,  here  used  for  the  blood. 


B 


26  willson's  FOUETH  READEE.  Pakt  L 


LESSON  IV. 
MUSCULAR  EXERCISE  AND  MENTAL  STIMULUS. 

1.  There  is  still  another  important  principle  connected  with 
muscular  exercise  that  must  not  be  disregarded.  The  mus- 
cles depend,  almost  wholly,  for  their  strength  and  activity, 
upon  the  stimulus^  which  they  receive  from  the  mind.  Let 
the  mind  encourage  them  by  pleasurable  excitement,'  and 
they  will  labor  long  and  actively  with  but  little  iatigue ;  but 
if  the  mind  be  unoccupied,  gloomy,  and  desponding,  the 
muscles  will  soon  become  weary. 

2.  That  muscular  power  depends  but  very  little  upon  the 
mere  unaided  strength  of  the  muscular  fibres,  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that,  when  separated  from  the  body,  the  muscle, 
which  formerly  sustained  and  raised  a  weight  of  one  hundred 
pounds,  will  be  torn  asunder  by  a  weight  of  ten  pounds. 
And  how  has  it  lost  all  this  power^  ?  Is  it  not  because  its 
appropriate  mental  stimulus  has  been  taken  aw^ay'  ? 

3.  It  is  owing  to  the  stimulus  which  the  muscles  receive 
from  the  mind  that  a  sportsman  will  pursue  his  game  for 
miles,  not  only  without  fatigue,  but  with  a  great  degree  of 
enjoyment,  while  a  dull  walk  of  half  the  distance  would 
weary  both  mind  and  body.  The  same  principle  was  well  il- 
lustrated in  the  retreat  from  Russia  of  the  defeated  and  dis- 
pirited French  army.  When  no  enemy  was  near,  the  French 
soldiers  had  hardly  strength  sufficient  to  carry  their  arms ; 
but  no  sooner  did  they  hear  the  report  of  the  Russian  guns, 
than  new  life  seemed  to  pervade  them,  and  they  wielded  their 
weapons  powerfully  until  the  foe  was  repulsed.  Then,  the 
mental  stimulus  being  gone,  there  was  a  relapse^  to  w^eak- 
ness,  and  prostration  followed. 

4.  It  is  thus  with  the  invalid^  when  riding  or  taking  a  walk 
for  his  health.  If  he  have  nothing  to  occupy  his  mind,  he 
will  be  apt" to  return  w^eary  and  dispirited;  but  let  him  have 
the  pleasure  of  agreeable  company,  or  be  able  to  enjoy  the 
charms  of  surrounding  nature,  and  his  ride  or  walk  will  re- 
fresh and  invigorate*  him.     So  it  is  with  the  daily  vocations^ 


1st  Div.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY  AND   HEALTH.  21 

of  life.  If  the  mind  furnish  the  muscles  with  the  appropriate 
incentive  to  exertion,  the  tiresomeness  of  labor  will  be  great- 
ly diminished.  It  is  ever  found  that  "  cheerfulness  sweetens 
toil,"  thus  confirming  the  wisdom  of  Solomon,  that  "  a  merry 
heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine." 

5.  Physicians  often  avail  themselves  of  the  principle  of 
combining  mental  excitement  with  muscular  exertion  in  the 
treatment  of  their  patients.  Thus  the  Spectator^  tells  an 
amusing  story  of  the  advice  given  by  a  physician  to  one  of 
the  Eastern  kings.  Th^  physician  brought  him  a  heavy  mal- 
let, and  told  him  that  the  remedy  was  concealed  in  the  han- 
dle, and  could  act  upon  him  only  by  passing  into  the  palms 
of  his  hands  when  engaged  in  vigorously  pounding  with  it, 
and  that,  as  soon  as  perspiration  should  be  induced,"^  he  might 
desist  for  the  time,  as  that  would  be  proof  that  the  medicine 
was  beginning  to  be  received  into  the  system. 

6.  The  effect,  we  are  told,  was  marvelous ;  and,  looking  to 
the  principle  just  stated,  to  the  cheerful  mental  stimulus  aris- 
ing from  the  confident  expectation  of  a  cure,  and  to  the  con- 
sequent advantages  of  exercise  thus  judiciously  managed,  we 
have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  fable  is  in  perfect  accord- 
ance with  nature. 

7.  Of  a  like  character  is  the  anecdote  which  has  been  re- 
lated of  a  physician  in  London,  who  advised  a  dyspeptic^  pa- 
tient, who  had  bafiled  all  his  remedies,  to  go  and  consult  a 
celebrated  physician  several  hundred  miles  distant  in  the 
country.  On  arriving  at  the  place,  the  patient  soon  discov- 
ered that  no  such  person  lived  there.  The  stimulus  of  ex- 
pecting a  cure,  however,  had  been  sufficient  to  enable  the  pa- 
tient not  only  to  bear  the  journey,  but  to  reap  benefit  from 
it ;  and  his  wr^th  at  finding  no  such  person  as  had  been  de- 
scribed to  him,  and  his  anger  on  perceiving  that  h#had  been 
tricked,  sustained  him  in  returning,  so  that  on  his  arrival 
home  he  was  cured  of  his  disease. 

8.  Cases  like  the  following,  illustrating  the  same  principle, 
are  not  unfrequent.  A  gentleman  immersed^  in  the  business 
and  pleasures  of  a  great  city  becomes  disordered  in  health, 
and  depressed  in  spirits.  He  receives  much  good  advice  from 
his  medical  friend,  which  he  professes  to  follow  with  implicit 


28 


wtllson's  foueth  eeader. 


Pakt  L 


confidence,  and  proceeds  to  do  so  amid  the  anxieties  of  busi- 
ness, bad  air,  late  hours,  luxurious  dinners,  and  nearly  the 
total  want  of  bodily  exercise. 

9.  Deriving  no  benefit  from  all  that  is  done  for  him,  he 
hears  of  some  celebrated  springs,  whose  waters  have  acquired 
great  reputation  in  the  cure  of  stomach  complaints ;  and  at 
length  he  makes  up  his  mind  to  proceed  thither,  though  with 
little  hope  of  deriving  benefit  from  any  thing.  He  now  lays 
aside  all  business,  lives  by  rule,  keeps  early  hours,  and  is  all 
day  long  in  the  open  air.  He  soon  recovers  excellent  health, 
and  cordially  concurs  in  spreading  the  fame  of  the  water  by 
which  a  cure  so  wonderful  has  been  accomplished. 

1 0.  The  advantages  of  combining  harmonious  mental  ex- 
citement with  muscular  exertion,  are  thus  noticed  by  Dr. 
Armstrong  in  his  poem  entitled  the  Art  of  Preserving 
Health: 

"7n  whatever  you  sweat. 
Indulge  your  taste.     Some  love  the  manly  foils, ^^ 
The  tennis^  ^  some,  and  some  the  graceful  dance. 
Others,  more  hardy,  range  the  purple  heath, 
Or  naked  stubble,  where,  from  field  to  field, 
The  sounding  coveys^ ^  urge  their  lab'ring  flight, 
Eager  amid  the  rising  cloud  to  pour 
The  gun's  unemng  thunder.     And  there  arc 
Whom  still  the  meed^^  of  the  green  archer  charms. 
He  chooses  best  whose  labor  entertains 
His  vacant  Janey  most.     The  toil  tou  hate 
Fatigues  you  soon,  and  scarce  oipboves  your  limbs." 


1  StTm'-C-lu8,  impulse ;  that  which  rouses 
to  action. 

2  Re-lapse',  a  sliding  or  fulling  back. 

3  in'-va-lid,  a  person  m  ho  is  weak  or  in- 
firm. 

*  In-vTo'-ok-ate,  strengthen. 
6  Vo-ca'-tion,  occupation ;  employment. 
6  Spk€-t.v'-toe,  a  series  of  papers  written 
mostly  by  AWlison. 


'  In-dCoed',  caused ;  occasioned. 

8  DYS-rEP'-Ti€,  afflicted  with  bad  digestion. 

9  Im-mebse«',  deeply  engaged. 

10  Foil.,  a  blunt  sword  used  in  fencing,  or 
sword  exercise. 

11  Tkn'-ni8,  a  game  of  ball. 

12  €6v'-F.Y  (kuv'-y),  plwral  cov'-eys,  a  small 
flock  of  birds. 

13  Meed,  reward ;  prize. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  29 


LESSON  V. 

OKGANS  THAT  PKEPARE  NOURISHMENT  FOR  THE  BODY. 
The  Stomach,  Livee,  Pancreas,  Lacteals,  and  smaller  Intestines. 

1.  It  has  been  stated  that  the  bones  and  the  muscles,  and 
also  all  other  portions  of  the  body,  are  nourished  and  sus- 
tained by  the  blood ;  and  that  the  blood  is  constantly  con- 
veying to  them  new  particles  of  matter,  and  carrying  away 
worn-out  portions  which  are  of  no  further  use.  As  the  blood 
has  so  much  to  do  in  the  biiilding  and  repairing  of  the  "  house 
we  live  in,"  it  will  be  both  interesting  and  useful  to  know 
something  about  the  organs  and  the  processes  by  which  the 
blood  itself  is  manufactured. 

2.  We  will  begin,  therefore,  by  stating  that  the  blood  is 
manufactured  from  the  food  we  eat.  It  may  well  be  sup- 
posed, therefore,  that  the  quality  of  the  blood  will  depend 
considerably  upon  the  quality  of  the  materials  used  in  its 
manufacture ;  for,  while  it  is  true  that  good  wholesome  food 
will  make  good  blood,  it  is  equally  true  that  poor  food  will 
make  poor  blood.  The  "  house  we  live  in"  can  not  be  a  very 
good  one  if  made  of  poor  materials.  This  subject,  the  man- 
ufacture of  the  blood,  becomes,  therefore,  a  very  important 
one. 

3.  As  is  well  known,  the  solid  portions  of  our  food  are  first 
divided  by  chewing.  And  here,  we  may  remark,  it  is  very 
desirable  that  the  teeth  should  be  firm  and  strong,  and  that 
they  should  be  required  to  do  their  part  of  the  work  well. 
While  they  are  doing  their  duty,  several  little  sacs,  or  glands^ 
near  the  sides  of  the  mouth,  throw  into  the  mouth  a  liquid 
called  saliva^  which  moistens  the  food,  so  that  it  may  glide 
easily  down  the  throat  into  the  stomach. 

4.  The  next  thing  is  to  describe  the  stomach,  and  tell  what 
that  does  toward  manufacturing  blood.  The  stomach  is  a 
kind  of  bag  that  will  hold  from  a  quart  to  three  pints,  ac- 
cording to  the  size  and  age  of  a  person.  It  is  formed  chiefly 
of  muscles,  some  running  in  one  direction,  and  some  in  an 


30  willson's  FOUETH  EEADER.  Paet  I. 

other,  and  the  inner  side  is  lined  with  vessels  which  contain 
a  fluid  called  the  gastric  juice. 

5.  When  food  is  received  into  the  stomach,  the  blood-ves- 
sels of  the  stomach  carry  off  any  superabundance^  of  water 
that  may  be  found  there ;  then  the  gastric  juice  is  poured  on 
to  the  food  to  dissolve  it,  and  the  muscles  of  the  stomach 
move  the  food  about  in  every  direction,  so  as  thoroughly  to 
mix  it  with  the  gastric  juice.  This  operation  is  continued, 
with  a  strong  and  steady  action,  from  two  to  four  hours  after 
a  hearty  meal,  until  the  food  is  reduced  to  a  thin  paste.  In 
this  state  it  is  called  chyme. 

6.  As  soon  as  any  portion  of  the  food  is  thus  suitably  pre- 
pared, the  muscles,  seeming  to  know  their  duty  well,  move 
it  along  to  the  small  end  of  the  stomach,  where  a  little  door 
or  valve  opens  to  let  it  j^ass  through  into  the  smaller  intes- 
tines. This  valve  is  a  very  faithful  sentinel,  always  on  duty ; 
and  if  any  portion  of  food  not  properly  digested — that  is,  not 
reduced  to  chyme  —  makes  its  appearance  there,  this  little 
valve  will  close  against  it,  and  turn  it  back  into  the  stomach. 
The  ancient  Greeks  gave  to  this  valve  the  name  pylorus, 
which  means  "  a  door-keeper."    (See  Figs.  9  and  10,  page  33.) 

7.  There  is  one  thing  more  very  singular  about  this  ever- 
watchful  sentinel.  While  it  will  not,  unless  completely  ex- 
hausted by  fatigue,  let  indigestible  food  pass  at  all,  it  opens 
at  once  to  let  other  substances  pass,  such  as  buttons,  pieces 
of  money,  and  little  pebbles,  that  have  been  swallowed  by 
mistake.  For  of  what  use  would  it  be  to  keep  them  in  the 
stomach  ?  Mr.  Pylorus  seems  to  know  that  they  can  not  be 
digested  at  all,  and  that  the  easiest  way  to  disj^ose  of  them 
is  to  let  them  pass  on.  ,    . 

8.  It  sometimes  happens  that  either  too  great  a  quantity  of 
food,  or  food  of  a  bad  quality,  has  been  taken  into  the  stom- 
ach. The  stomach,  after  a  great  amount  of  labor,  and  failing 
to  digest  it,  tries  to  get  rid  of  it  by  pushing  it  past  the  pylo- 
rus. The  pylorus  resists,  and  a  struggle  ensues.  If  the  py- 
lorus yields  first,  the  undigested  food  passes  through,  irri- 
tating3  the  intestines  as  it  moves  along,  and  often  producing 
severe  sickness.  But  if  the  stomach  yields  first,  its  muscles 
endeavor  to  expel  the  unwholesome  food  in  the  other  direc- 
tion, and  occasion  what  is  called  vomiting. 


1st  Diy.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  31 

9.  But  suppose  that  good  wholesome  chyme  has  passed 
the  doorway  of  the  pylorus,  what  is  the  next  step  in  the 
process?  We  are  looking  to  see  how  blood  is  made  from 
the  food  we  have  eaten.  First,  then,  through  a  little  chan- 
nel the  liver  pours  upon  the  chyme  a  quantity  of  that  bitter 
yellow  fluid«called  bile  ;  then  another  organ,  called  the  pan- 
ereas^'^  pours  upon  it  ihe  pancreatic  juice  ;  some  other  juices 
are  also  poured  in,  and  these  liquids  convert  a  portion  of  the 
chyme  into  a  thin  whitish  fluid  called  chyle.^ 

10.  As  this  chyle  is  carried  along  in  the  intestine  it  comes 
in  contact  with  the  mouths  of  numerous  little  veins,  and  also 
the  mouths  of  numerous  little  hair-like  tubes  called  lacteals^ 
both  of  which  absorb  it,  and  convey  it  to  what  is  called  the 
thoracic^  duct ;  and  this  duct  empties  it  into  a  large  vein, 
which  conveys  it  to  the  heart.  After  this  it  is  sent  to  the 
limgs,  whore  it  is  acted  upon  by  the  oxygen  of  the  atmos- 
phere, as  we  shall  hereafter  describe,  when  it  becomes  blood 
— a  stock  of  fresh  materials,  suitable  to  aid  in  repairing,  build- 
ing up,  and  nourishing  the  body. 

11.  "For  this  the  watchful  appetite  was  given, 

Daily  with  fresh  materials  to  repair 

This  unavoidable  expense  of  life, 

This  necessary  waste  of  flesh  and  blood. 

Hence  the  digestive  powers,  with  various  art, 

Subdue  the  ruder  aliments^  to  chyle ; 

The  chyle  to  blood ;  the  foamy  purple  tide 

To  liquors,  which,  through  finer  arteries. 

To  different  parts  their  winding  course  pursue. 

To  try  new  changes,  and  new  forms  put  on." 

12.  But  what  does  this  blood,  which  circulates  in  our  bod- 
ies, consist  of?  The  blood  of  man  consists  of  a  colorless  liq- 
uid, composed  mostly  of  water,  in  which  are  seen  floating  a 
great  number  of  very  small,  flat,  circular  atoms,  or  sacs,  call- 
ed disks  or  cells,  a  few  of  them  white,  but  most  of  them  red. 
If  ticelve  thousand  of  these  thin,  flat  cells  Avere  placed  one 
upon  another,  they  would  make  a  pile  of  less  than  an  inch  in 
thickness !    These  cells  seem  to  be  a  kind  of  living  atoms,  for 

*  Oils  and  fats  are  not  digested  in  the  stomach,  hut  only  after  they  have  passed  into 
the  intestine,  and  been  acted  upon  by  the  bile.  They  are  then  absorbed  by  the  lacteals. 
Although  we  speak  of  the  mouths  of  the  lacteals,  they  ai-e  so  small  as  to  be  invisible  even 
by  the  aid  of  glasses,  and  may  be  considered  as  mere  porea  leading  to  those  tubes. 


32 


willson's  foueth  eeadee. 


Part  I. 


they  have  their  periods  of  birth,  of  growth,  of  decay,  and  of 
death ;  and  they  are  nourished  by  the  hquid  in  which  they 
float.  Countless  myriads  of  them  come  into  existence  every 
day ;  and  it  is  said  that  at  every  pulsation^  of  the  heart  near- 
ly twenty  millions  of  them  die.  Has  not  physiology,  then, 
its  passing  wonders,  as  well  as  astronomy  ?     (S^e  Fig.  8.) 

13.  While  the  blood,  as  a  whole,  has  its  own  peculiar  la- 
bors to  perform  in  nourishing  the  body  and  removing  its 
waste  particles,  each  part  of  the  blood  has  its  separate  duty. 
Thus  the  liquid  in  which  the  blood-cells  float  carries  along 
the  nourishing  materials  which  are  dissolved  in  it;  but  the 
business  of  the  cells  is  to  carry  the  oxygen.  They  take  it  in 
at  the  lungs,  carry  it  where  it  is  needed  to  burn  up  the  waste 
particles  of  carbon  and  convert  them  into  carbonic  acid  gas, 
and  then  go  back  for  a  new  supply.  What  a  wonderful  j)roc- 
ess  this  is!  But  when  the  cells  get  old,  and  worn  out  in 
this  labor,  they  shrivel  up  with  age,  they  lose  their  bright 
crimson  color,  and  assume  a  tawny  hue  like  the  decaying 
leaves  of  autumn,  and  at  length  they  die — millions  of  them  at 
every  breath  we  draw.  Some  portions  of  their  dead  remains 
are  used  in  repairs  of  the  system,  w^hile  other  portions  are 
strained  off  in  the  liver,  and  used  for  the  manufacture  of 
hile. 

14.  The  relative  position  of  the  principal  organs  of  the 
body,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  are  neatly  packed  to- 


Fig.  8  represents  a  very  small  drop  of  human  blood,  containing  the  circular  Wood-cells 
magnified  500  diameters.  As  the  blood-cells  in  other  animals  are  not  similar  in  size  and 
shape  to  those  found  in  man,  the  microscope  will  detect  the  diflfereucc. 


If  we  take  a  quanti- 
ty of  the  blood  of  man, 
and  analyze  it,  we 
shall  find  that  in  1000 
parts  of  it  tliore  are 
nearly  the  following 
proportions  of  various 
ingredients : 

Water 7S4  00 

Albumen 70  Oo 

librin 2.20 

Cells 131.00 

Tata 1  :!0 

Salts 6.03 

Other  sub- ) 

stances../  ' 


5.47 


1000.00 


The  following  is  tho 
composition  of  1000  parts 
of  the  cells : 

\Vatcr CSS.  00 

llajmatin  (with  )     -tr  'tk 

iron) /    ^*'*^ 

Globulin  and) 

cell    mem- v..  2S2.?2 

brane  . . . . ) 

Fat 2.31 

Extractive 2.C0 

Mineral  sub- )  g  -jo 

stances ...}  " 

1000.00 


1st  Drv.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH. 


33 


gether,  may  be  seen  in  the  drawing,  Fig.  9,  which  we  have 
given  below.  In  the  drawing  Fig.  10  is  a  separate  repre- 
sentation of  the  principal  organs  of  digestion,  which  are  en- 
gaged in  manufacturing  that  life-bearing  and  Ufe-preserving 
current,  the  blood,  from  the  food  w^e  have  eaten.  He  who 
made  them,  He  Avho  planned  this  curious  manufactory,  has 
assigned  to  them  their  duties ;  and  faithfully  will  they  keep 
laboring  on  in  our  service  through  a  long  hfe,  if  we  furnish 
them  the  proper  materials  to  work  with,  and  guard  them 

Explanation. — Fig.  9  :  c  the  windpipe.  Back  of  the  heart  it  branches  to  both  lungs. 
2?,  Bi  the  right  and  left  luug.s  }  A ,  tlie  heart ;  d,  the  diaphragm,  the  muscle  separating 
the  chest  from  the  abdomen  ;  D,  the  stomach ;  S\  the  spleen  (or  milt),  supposed  by  the 
ancients  to  be  tlie  seat  of  melancholy.  Its  use  is  not  well  determined.  C,  the  liver,  the 
largest  organ  in  the  body ;  I,  the  gall-bladder,  on  the  under  surface  of  the  liver ;  m,  m, 
the  two  kidneys,  the  right  one  the  lowest ;  V,  situation  of  the  pylorus  ;  0,  the  pancreas  ; 
«?,  IV,  the  small  intestine,  sometimes  called  the  second  stomach ;  /,  /,  /,  the  colon,  or 
large  intestine. 

rig.  10  :  3,  the  cesoph'-a-gns,  through  which  the  food  passes  into  the  stomach ;  1.3,  car- 
diac orifice  of  the  stomach  ;  14,  splenic  extremity  ;  15,  pyloric  extremity ;  IS,  pyloihis  ; 
19,  20,  21,  that  part  of  the  small  intestine  called  the  du-o-de' -num ;  22,  gall-bladder ;  23, 
cystic  duct ;  24,  hepatic  duct ;  25,  common  gall  duct ;  26,  its  opening  into  the  du-o-de'- 
num  ;  27,  duct  of  the  pancreas  opening  into  the  du-o-de'-num  ;  28  to  30,  that  part  of  the 
email  intestine  called  the  je-ju' -nuni ;  30  to  31,  that  part  called  the  il'-e-um;  31,  open- 
ing of  the  il'-e-um  into  the  large  intestine,  or  co'-lon;  36,  37,  38,  39,  the  colon  ;  40, 
rectum. 

Fig.  9.   .  -.»  Fig.  10. 


B2 


#.  <  .  * 


34  willson's  FOTJETH  EEADEB.  Pakt  I. 

from  clanger,  and  from  the  many  abuses  to  which  they  are 
liable  from  om*  ignorance,  our  folly,  and  our  neglect. 

15.  But  oh!  how  sadly  are  these  faithful  servants  often 
abused  by  us^ !  How  often  do  we  give  the  stomach  more 
labor  than  it  can  perform^ !  How  often  do  we  fill  it  with 
crude^  and  indigestible  materials,  until  it  rebels  agains.t  our 
tyranny,  or  sinks  exhausted  in  our  service^ !  How  often  do 
many  poison  it  with  vile  drinks^ !  How  often  do  they  neg- 
lect to  give  it  the  repose  which  it  needs^ !  How  generally 
are  its  laws  of  healthy  action  violated^ !  And  the  sad  conse- 
quences— are  they  not  evident  all  around  us,  in  thousands  of 
cases  of  suffering,  disease,  and  early  death'  ? 

^  Sa-lT'-va;    when    discharged   from    thc'6  Tno-BAc'-ic    (tho-ras'-ik) ;    the    thoracic 
mouth  it  is  called  spittle.  duct  is  the  great  trunk  of  the  absorbent 

2  Str-PEE-A-BUND'-ANCE,  morc  than  enough,      vessels. 

3  Ib'-rt-ta-ting,  causing  unhealthy  action. ;  "^  al'-i-ment,  food  ;  nutriment. 

*  Pan'-€ee-a8,  a  gland  that  pours  out  ai^  PtT.-SA'-TiON,  the  beating  or  throbbing  of 
kind  of  saliva.  the  heart. 

*  LA€'-TE-Aii$,  these  are  slender  hair-like, 9  €eude,  unripe ;  raw. 
tubes.  I 


lesso:n^  yi. 

THE  BEST  COSMETICS. 

nOEACE    SMITH. 

1.  Ye  who  would  save  your  features  florid, 

•    Lithe  limbs,  bright  eyes,  un wrinkled  forehead, 
From  Age's  devastation  horrid, 

Adopt  this  plan — 
'Twill  make,  in  climate  cold  or  torrid, 

A  hale  old  man : 

2.  Avoid,  in  youth,  luxurious  diet ; 
Restrain  the  passions'  lawless  riot ; 
Devoted  to  domestic  quiet. 

Be  wisely  gay ; 
So  shall  ye,  spite  of  Age's  fiat. 
Resist  decay. 

3.  Seek  not,  in  Mammon's  worship,  pleasure ; 
But  find  your  richest,  dearest  treasure. 


f    #♦ 


1st  DiV.  OP  .  .  .  nUMA^  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  35 

In  books,  friends,  music,  polished  leisure : 

The  mind,  not  sense, 
Made  the  sole  scale  by  which  to  measure 

Your  opulence. 

4.  This  is  the  solace,  this  the  science. 
Life's  purest,  sweetest,  best  appliance. 
That  disappoints  not  man's  reUance, 

Whate'er  his  state ; 
But  challenges,  with  calm  defiance, 

Time,  fortune,  fate. 


LESSON  YIL 

ABUSES  OF  THE  DIGESTIVE  ORGANS.— LAWS  OF  THEIR 
HEALTHY  ACTION. 

1.  We  have  seen  not  only  that  the  bones  and  muscles  are 
formed  from  the  blood,  and  kept  in  repair  by  it,  but  that  the 
blood  itself  is  formed,  by  the  labors  of  the  digestive  organs, 
out  of  the  food  provided  for  them.  It  will  readily  be  seen, 
moreover,  that  the  healthy  action  of  these  organs  in  manu- 
facturing the  blood  must  depend  upon  several  conditions, 
such  as  the  proper  quantity  and  quality  of  the  food  supplied 
for  them  to  work  upon,  the  times  and  manner  of  the  supply, 
and  the  condition  of  the  system^  when  food  is  taken. 

2.  Without  a  suitable  quantity  of  food,  there  will  not  be  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  blood  to  build  up  the  body,  and  keep  it 
in  repair.  When  the  body  is  growmg  rapidly,  as  in  youth, 
more  food  is  required  as  building  material  than  when  the  pe- 
riod of  youth  has  ended.  This  accounts  for  the  keen  appe- 
tite and  vigorous  digestion  in  childhood.  For  a  similar  rea- 
son,vwhen  the  body  has  become  emaciated^  by  disease,  or 
want  of  nutriment,  an  increased  supply  is  needed  to  repair 
the  waste. 

3.  It  has  been  seen  that  muscular  exertion  increases  the 
flow  of  blood,  for  the  purpose  of  repairing  the  waste  that  al- 
ways attends  action.  Hence  those  accustomed  to  hard  labor 
require  a  greater  supply  of  food  than  those  of  inactive  habits 


36  willson's  fourth  EEADER.  Paet  I. 

or  sedentary^  occupations.  When,  therefore,  the  amount  of 
exercise  is  diminished,  the  quantity  of  food  should  be  lessen- 
ed ;  and  if  this  j)rinciple  be  disregarded,  the  tone*  of  the  di- 
gestive organs  will  be  impaired,^  and  the  health  of  the  system 
enfeebled.  The  rule  of  temperance^  and  its  happy  results, 
are  thus  set  forth  by  the  poet  Milton : 
4.  "If  thou  wouldst  observe 

The  rule  of  not  too  7nuch,  by  temp'rance  taught, 

In  what  thou  cat'st  and  drink'st,  seek  from  thence 

Due  nourishment,  not  gluttonous  delight, 

Till  many  years  over  thy  head  return. 

So  may'st  thou  live,  till,  like  ripe  fruit,  thou  drop 

Into  thy  mother's  lap,^  or  be  with  ease 

Gather'd,  not  harshly  plucked,  for  death  mature." 
6.  As  a  general  rule  for  the  quantity  of  food  required,  it 
may  be  stated  that  no  more  should  be  taken,  at  any  age,  or 
in  any  condition  of  the  body,  than  is  barely  sufficient  to  sat- 
isfy the  natural  appetite.  By  a  natural  appetite  is  to  be  un- 
derstood an  appetite  that  is  not  perverted  by  disease,  nor  by 
mental  excitement ;  not  stimulated  by  highly-seasoned  dishes ; 
and  not  vitiated'^  by  a  long  period  of  gormandizing.^  An 
unnecessary  quantity  of  food  oppresses  the  stomach,  dulls  the 
intellect,  and  causes  general  languor^  of  the  whole  body. 

6.  "While  most  kinds  of  plain  food,  including  ripe  fruits  in 
general,  may  be  said  to  be  of  good  quality,  yet  some  kinds 
contain  a  great  amount  of  nutriment,  and  some  but  little. 
Those  which  contain  a  very  great  proportion  of  nutriment, 
such  as  butter,  the  oils,  sugar,  and  fine  flour,  are  found  not  to 
digest  so  readily  as  coarser  articles  of  diet,  and  not  to  be  so 
Well  adapted  to  the  purj^oses  of  nutrition. 

7.  A  dog  fed  on  pure  sugar,  or  olive  oil,  will  soon  become 
emaciated ;  but  mix  bran,  or  even  saw-dust,  with  the  sugar 
or  the  oil,  and  the  vigor  of  the  animal  will  be  maintained  for 
months.  Feed  a  horse  on  grain  alone,  and  he  will  sooivdie ; 
but  mix  hay  or  straw  with  it,  and  no  bad  efl*ects  will  be  ex- 
perienced. Our  stomachs  require,  together  with  nutritious 
food,  a  suitable  proportion  of  coarse  and  bulky,  but  not  indi- 
gestible articles.  Bread  made  from  flour  which  contains  a 
portion  of  the  bran  is  far  more  conducive  to  health  than  that 
made  from  a  finer  material. 


1st  DiV.  OP  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY  AND   HEALTH. 


37 


8.  Animal  food  is  found  to  be  of  a  stimulating  or  warming 
character,  while  vegetables  are  the  oj^posite.  While  both  are 
adapted  to  nourish  man,  sometimes  one  is  required,  and  some- 
times the  other.  In  childhood,  when  the  organs  are  sensitive 
and  excitable,  a  vegetable  diet  is  usually  the  most  appropri- 
ate, while  to  a  person  advanced  in  life  an  increased  propor- 
tion of  animal  food  is  often  found  desirable.  As  a  general 
rule,  in  the^ummer  season  a  cooling  vegetable  diet  is  found 
most  conducive  to  health ;  but  those  who  are  exj^osed  to  the 
cold  of  winter  find  increased  comfort  in  a  greater  proportion 
of  animal  food. 

9.  Nature  has  adapted  herself  to  this  principle  in  stocking 
the  waters  of  the  frozen  regions  of  the  world  with  an  abund- 
ant supply  of  animal  life  for  food,  w^hile  vegetable  life  abounds 
in  the  torrid  zone.  •  The  temperament^^  of  the  individual 
should  also  influence  the  choice  of  food ;  for  while  the  dull 
and  phlegmatic^  ^  may  indulge  with  impunity  ^^  j^  a 'stimulat- 
ing animal  diet,  the  sanguine  ^^  and  excitable  are  liablq  to  be 
injured  by  it. 

10.  Moreover,  food  should  be  taken  at  regular  periods,  and 
at  sufficient  intervals  to  allow  the  process  of  digestion  to  be 
completed,  and  the  organs  to  obtain  adequate  repose  before 
they  are  required  to  resume  their  labors.  Food  or  drink 
taken  very  hot  is  a  fruitful  cause  of  decayed  teeth,  sore 
mouths,  and  indigestion ;  and  when  taken  very  cold  it  chills 
the  stomach,  and  likewise  arrests  the  digestive  process. 

11.  Finally,  food  should  not  be  taken  immediately  before 
nor  immediately  after  severe  mental  exertion,  or  bodily  toil, 
nor  for,  at  least,  three  hours  before  retiring  to  sleep.  While 
the  brain  is  laboring  under  great  excitement,  the  increased 
flow  of  blood  to  that  organ  causes  the  stomach  to  cease  its 
labors ;  and  if,  during  sleep,  the  process  of  digestion  is  con- 
tinued, the  labor  required  of  the  stomach  will  often  cause  un- 
quiet rest  and  troublesome  dreams.  It  is  also  supposed  that, 
during  sleep,  the  brain  does  not  furnish  the  stomach  the  same 
mental  stimulus  as  during  waking  hours. 


1  Rys'-tem,  an  assemblage  of  things  formed 
into  a  regular  whole;  here  used  for  the 
whole  body. 

2  E-ma'-oia-ted,  thin  ;  wasted  away. 


3  Skd'-en-ta-ry,  inactive  ;  accustomed  to 

sit  much. 
*  Tone,  healthy  state  or  condition. 
5*Im-paie'-ed,  injured;  weakened. 


38  WILLSON'S  FOUBTH  BEADER.  Part  I. 

6  "Mother's  lap,"  here  used  for  the  earth, lo  Tkm-per-a-ment,  state  or  constitution  of 
or  grave.  |    the  body. 


7  Vi'-TiA-TET)  (vish'-a-ted)., injured ;  changed 
from  a  healthy  state. 

8  Gor'-mand-iz-ing,  eating   greedily,  and 
too  much. 

9  Lan'-guok  {larig-gioor) yfeeblencaa. 


1  PnLEG-MAT'-i€,  dull ;  sluggish. 

12  Im-pu'-mi-ty,   exemi)tion    from    punish- 
ment. 

13  San'-gtjine  (.sanjr-flfium),  warm;  ardent. 


LESSOlSr  VIII. 

THE  FABLE  OF  THE  TWO  BEES. 

1.  One  fine  morning  in  May,  two  bees  set  forward  in  quest^ 
of  honey ;  the  one  wise  and  temperate,  the  other  careless  and 
extravagant.  They  soon  arrived  at  a  garden  enriched  w^ith 
aromatic^  herbs,  the  most  fragrant  flowers,  and  the  most  de- 
licious fruits.  They  regaled^  themselves  for  a  time  on  the 
various  dainties  set  before  them ;  the  one  loading  his  thighs 
at  intervals  with  wax  for  the  construction  of  his  hive,  the 
othfer  reveling*  in  sweets,  without  regard  to  any  thing  but 
present  gratification.  _..  At  length  they  found  a  wide-mouthed 
phial,  that  hung  filled  with  honey  beneath  the  bough  of  a 
peach-tree.  The  thoughtless  epicure,^  in  spite  of  all  his 
friend's  remonstrances,  plunged  headlong  into  the  vessel,  re- 
solving to  indulge  himself  in  all  the  pleasures  of  sensuality.^ 

2.  The  philosophic"''  bee,  on  thd  other  hand,  sipped  with  cau- 
tion ;  but,  being  suspicious  of  danger,  flew  off"  to  fruits  and 
flowers,  where,  by  the  moderation  of  his  meals,  he  improved 
his  rehsh  for  the  true  enjoyment  of  them.  In  the  evening, 
however,  he  called  for  his  friend,  to  inquire  whether  he  would 
return  to  the  hive,  but  found  him  surfeited^  in  sweets  which 
he  was  as  unable  to  leave  as  to  enjoy.  Clogged  in  his  wings, 
enfeebled  in  his  legs,  and  liis  whole  frame  enervated,^  he  was 
but  just  able  to  bid  his  friend  adieu,  and  to  lament  with  his 
latest  breath  that,  though  a  taste  of  pleasure  may  quicken  the 
relish  of  life,  an  unrestrained  indulgence  is  inevitable^ ^  de- 
struction. 


1  Quest,  search  of. 

»  Ar-o-mat'-ic,  fragrant ;  havin'g  an  agree- 
able odor. 

3  Re-galed',  feasted. 

*  Rev'-el-ing,  feasting  with  noisy  merri- 
ment. 

6  Ep'-r-€rrRE,  one  who  indulges  immoderate- 
ly in  the  luxuries  of  eating. 


6  Pen8-1j-al'-i-tt,  unrestrained  indulgence 
of  the  appetites. 

7  riiiL-o-8opn'-i€,  temperate  and  reasona- 
ble ;  acting  like  a  philosopher. 

"  Scr'-veTt-ed,  filled  to  exoes?  ;  cloyed. 
9  F.-NERv'-A-TEP,  weakened ;  enfeebled. 
10  In-ev'-i-ta-ble,  certain:  unavoidabla 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  39 


lesso:n^  IX. 

THE  COMPLAINT  OF  A  STOMACH. 

CnAJIBERS. 

[Tile  Stomach,  after  having  suffered  much  from  the  great  and  unnecessary  amount  of 
labor  required  of  it,  and  from  unseasonable  m^ls,  stimulating  di'inks,  and  want  of  rest, 
is  supposed  to  make  the  following  complaint.] 

1.  Being  allowed  for  once  to  speak,  I  would  take  the  op- 
portunity to  set  forth  how  ill,  in  all  respects,  we  stomachs  are 
used.  From  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  life,  we  are  either 
afflicted  with  too  Httle  or  too  much,  or  not  the  right  thing,  or 
things  which  are  horribly  disagreeable  to  us ;  or  are  other- 
wise thrown  into  a  state  of  discomfort.  I  do  not  think  it 
proper  to  take  up  a  moment  in  bewailing  the  Too  Little,  for 
that  is  an  evil  which  is  never  the  fault  of  our  masters,  but 
rather  the  result  of  their  misfortunes ;  and,  indeed,  we  would 
sometimes  feel  as  if  it  were  a  rehef  from  other  kinds  of  dis- 
tress, if  we  were  put  upon  short  allowance  for  a  few  days. 
But  we  conceive  ourselves  to  have  matter  for  serious  com- 
plaint against  mankind  in  respect  of  the  Too  Much,  which  is 
always  an  evil  voluntarily  incurred. 

2.  What  a  pity  that  in  the  progress  of  discovery  we  can 
not  establish  some  means  of  a  good  understanding  between 
mankind  and  their  stomachs ;  for  really  the  effects  of  their 
non-acquaintance  are  most  vexatious.  Human  beings  seem 
to  be,  to  this  day,  completely  in  the  dark  as  to  what  they 
ought  to  take  at  any  time,  and  err  almost  as  often  from  ig- 
norance as  from  depraved^  appetite.  Sometimes,  for  instance, 
when  jk^e  of  the  inner  house  are  rather  weakly,  they  will  send 
us  down  an  article  that  we  could  deal  with  when  only  in  a 
state  of  robust  health.  Sometimes,  when  we  would  require 
a  mild  vegetable  diet,  they  will  persist  in  the  most  stimulating 
and  irritating  of  viands.^ 

3.  What  sputtering  we  poor  stomachs  have  when  mistakes 
of  that  kind  occur^ !  What  remarks  we  indulge  in  regard- 
ing our  masters^ !  "  What's  this,  now^  ?"  Avill  one  of  us  say ; 
"  ah,  detestable  stuff  ^ !  What  a  ridiculous  fellow  that  man  is^ ! 
Will  he  never  learn'  ?    Just  the  very  thing  I  did  not  want. 


40  willson's  foueth  reader.  Paet  I. 

If  he  would  only  send  down  a  bowl  of  fresh  leek  soup,  or 
barley  broth,  there  would  be  some  sense  in  it :"  and  so  on. 
If  we  had  only  been  allowed  to  give  the  slightest  hint  now 
and  then,  Uke  faithful  servants  as  we  are,  from  how  many 
miseries  might  we  have  saved  both  our  masters  and  our- 
selves^ ! 

4.  I  have  been  a  stomach  for  about  forty  years,  during  all 
of  which  time  I  have  endeavored  to  do  my  duty  faithfully 
and  punctually.  My  master,  however,  is  so  reckless,  that  I 
would  defy  any  stomach  of  ordinary  ability  and  capacity  to 
get  along  23leasantly  with  him.  The  fact  is,  like  almost  all  oth- 
er men,  he,  in  his  eating  and  drinking,  considers  his  own  pleas- 
ure only,  and  never  once  reflects  on  the  poor  Avretch  who  has 
to  be  responsible  for  the  disposal  of  every  thing  down  stairs. 
Scarcely  on  any  day  does  he  fail  to  exceed  the  strict  rule  of 
temperance ;  nay,  there  is  scarcely  a  single  meal  which  is  al- 
together what  it  ought  to  be.  j\Iy  life  is  therefore  one  of 
continual  worry  and  fret ;  I  am  never  allowed  to  rest  from 
morning  till  night,  and  have  not  a  moment  in  the  four-and- 
twenty  hours  that  I  can  safely  call  my  own. 

5.  My  greatest  trial  takes  place  in  the  evening,  when  my 
master  has  dined.  If  you  only  saw  what  a  mess  this  said 
dinner  is — soup,  fish,  flesh,  fowl,  ham,  rice,  potatoes,  table- 
beer,  sherry,  tart,  pudding,  cheese,  bread,  all  mixed  up  togeth- 
er. I  am  accustomed  to  the  thing,  so  don't  feel  much  shock- 
ed ;  but  my  master  himself  would  faint  at  the  sight.  The 
slave  of  duty  in  all  circumstances,  I  call  in  my  friend  Gastric 
Juice,  and  we  set  to  work  with  as  much  good-will  as  if  we 
had  the  most  agreeable  task  in  the  world  before  us.  But, 
unluckily,  my  master  has  an  impression  very  firmly  fixed  upon 
him  that  our  business  is  apt  to  be  vastly  promoted'  by  an 
hour  or  two's  drinking;  so  he  continues  at  table  among  his 
friends,  and  pours  down  some  bottle  and  a  half  of  wine,  per- 
haps of  various  sorts,  that  bothers  Gastric  Juice  and  me  to  a 
degree  which  no  one  can  have  any  idea  of. 

6.  In  fact,  this  said  wine  undoes  our  work  almost  as  fiist  as 
we  do  it,  besides  blinding  and  poisoning  us  poor  servants  into 
the  bargain.  On  many  occasions  I  am  obliged  to  give  u^^  my 
task  for  the  time  altogether ;  for  while  this  vinous^  shower  is 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY    AND   HEALTH.  41 

going  on  I  would  defy  the  most  vigorous  stomach  in  the  world 
to  make  any  advance  in  its  business  worth  speaking  of.  Some- 
times things  go  to  a  much  greater  length  than  at  others ;  and 
my  master  will  paralyze*  us  in  this  manner  for  hours,  not  al- 
ways, indeed,  with  Avine,»but  occasionally  with  punch,  one  in- 
gredient of  which — the  lemon — is  particularly  odious  to  us. 
All  this  time  I  can  hear  him  jollifying  away  at  a  great  rate, 
drinking  healths  to  his  neighbors,  and  ruining  his  own. 

7.  I  am  a  lover  of  early  hours,  as  are^toy  brethren  gener- 
ally. To  this  we  are  very  much  disposed  by  the  extremely 
hard  work  which  we  usually  undergo  during  the  day.  About 
ten  o'clock,  having,  perhaps,  at  that  time  got  all  our  labors 
past,  and  feeling  fatigued  and  exhausted,  we  like  to  sink  into 
repose,  not  to  be  again  disturbed  till  next  morning  at  break- 
fast-time. Well,  how  it  may  be  with  others  I  can't  tell ;  but 
s^  it  is,  that  my  master  never  scruples  to  rouse  me  up  from 
my  first  sleep,  and  give  me  charge  of  an  entirely  new  meal, 
after  I  thought  I  was  to  be  my  own  master  for  the  night. 
This  is  a  hardship  of  the  most  grievous  kind. 

8.  Only  imagine  me,  after  having  gathered  in  my  coal, 
drawn  on  my  night-caj),  and  gone  to  bed,  called  up  and  made 
to  take  charge  of  a  quantity  of  stuff  which  I  know  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  get  off  my  hands  all  night !  Such,  O  mankind,  are 
the  woes  which  befall  our  tribe  in  consequence  of  your  occa- 
sionally yielding  to  the  temptations  of  "  a  little  supper."  I 
see  turkey  and  tongue  in  grief  and  terror.  Macaroni^  fills  me 
with  frantic  alarm.  I  behold  jelly  and  trifle^  follow  in  mute 
despair.  O  that  I  had  the  power  of  standing  beside  my  mas- 
ter, and  holding  his  unreflecting  hand,  as  he  thus  prepares  for 
my  torment  and  his  own ! 

9.  Here,  too,  the  old  mistaken  notion  about  the  need  of 
something  stimulating  besets  him,  and  down  comes  a  deluge 
of  hot  spirits  and  water,  that  causes  me  to  writhe  in  agony, 
and  almost  sends  Gastric  Juice  off  in  the  sulks  to  bed.  Nor 
does  the  infatuated  man  rest  here.  If  the  company  be  agree- 
able, one  glass  follows  another,  while  I  am  kept  standing,  as 
it  were,  with  my  sleeves  tucked  up,  ready  to  begin,  but  un- 
able to  perform  a  single  stroke  of  work. 

10.  I  feel  that  the  strength  w^hich  I  ought  to  have  at  my 


42  WILLSOn's  fourth  reader.  Part  I. 

present  time  of  life  has  passed  from  me.  I  am  getting  weak, 
and  i^eevish,  and  evil-disposed.  A  comparatively  small  trouble 
sits  long  and  sore  upcm  me.  Bile,  from  being  my  servant,  is 
becoming  my  master ;  and  a  bad  one  he  makes,  as  all  good 
servants  ever  do.  I  see  nothing  before  me  but  a  premature 
old  age  of  pains  and  groans,  and  gripes  and  grumblings, 
which  will,  of  course,  not  last  over  long ;  and  thus  I  shall  be 
cut  short  in  my  career,  when  I  should  have  been  enjoying 
life's  tranquil  evening,  without  a  single  vexation  of  any  kind 
to  trouble  me. 

11.  Were  I  of  a  revengeful  temper,  it  might  be  a  consola- 
tion to  think  that  my  master — the  cause  of  all  my  woes — must 
suffer  and  sink  with  me ;  but  I  don't  see  how  this  can  mend 
my  own  case;  and,  from  old  acquaintance,  I  am  rather  dis- 
posed to  feel  sorry  for  him,  as  one  who  has  been  more  igno- 
rant and  imprudent  than  ill-meaning.  In  the  same  spirit  let 
me  hope  that  this  true  and  unaffected  account  of  my  case 
may  prove  a  warning  to  other  persons  how  they  use  their 
stomachs ;  for,  they  may  depend  upon  it,  whatever  injustice 
they  do  to  us,  in  their  days  of  health  and  pride,  will  be  repaid 
to  themselves  in  the  long-run — our  friend  Madame  Nature 
being  a  remarkably  accurate  accountant,  who  makes  no  al- 
lowance for  ignorance  or  mistakes. 

1  De-pkav'ed,  comipted  ;  made  bad.  [S  Mac-a-rO'-nT,  a  kind  of  drj  paste  made 
3  Vi'-ANDS,  food  ;  meat  dressed.  of  wheat  flour. 

3  VI'-NOtTB,  pertaining  to  wine.  «  Tki'-fle,  a  dish  composed  of  layers  of 

*  Pab'-a-lyzk,  render  unable  to  act.  \    sweetmeats  and  cake,  with  syllabub. 


LESSON  X. 

CORNARO  THE  ITALIAN. 


1.  CoRXARO  w^as  an  Italian,  who,  by  the  simplest  diet,  a 
quiet  mode  of  life,  and  an  unexampled  perseverance  in  his 
plan,  happily  attained  to  a  great  age,  which  richly  rewarded 
him  for  his  self-denial,  and  gave  an  instructive  lesson  to  pos- 
terity. 

2.  One  can  not  read  the  history  of  the  hfe  and  abstinence 
of  this  veteran  of  a  hundred  years,  and  hear  how  he  praises 
that  serenity  and  contentment  for  which  he  was  indebted  to 


l3t  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY  AND   HEALTH.  43 

his  mode  of  living,  without  participating^  in  his  happiness  and 
his  cheerful  sensations. 

3.  Till  the  fortieth  year  of  his  age,  Cornaro  had  led  a  life 
of  dissipation.2  jj^  j^ad  always  been  subject  to  colics,  pains 
in  the  limbs,  and  frequent  attacks  of  fever.  He  was  so  far 
reduced  by  the  last  that  his  physician  assured  him  he  could 
not  live  above  two  months ;  that  all  medicme  would  be  use- 
less; and  that  the  only  thing  which  could  be  recommended 
for  him  was  a  spare  diet. 

4.  Having  followed  this  advice,  Cornaro  found,  after  some 
days,  that  he  was  much  better ;  and  at  the  end  of  a  few  years 
his  health  was  not  only  perfectly  re-established,  but  he  be- 
came sounder  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  He  resolved, 
therefore,  to  restrain  himself  more  and  more,  and  to  use  noth- 
ing except  what  was  absolutely  necessary  for  his  subsistence. 
-  5.  For  sixty  whole  years  he  took  no  more  than  twelve 
ounces  of  solid  food  and  thirteen  ounces  of  drink  daily.  He 
avoided,  also,  violent  heat  and  cold,  as  well  as  all  excitement 
and  passion ;  and  by  this  uniform  mode  of  life  he  kept  not 
only  his  body,  but  his  mind  also,  in  such  a  state  of  equality 
that  nothing  was  able  to  derange  them. 

6.  When  at  a  great  age  he  lost  an  important  lawsuit ;  and 
though  this  disappointment  hurried  two  of  his  brothers  to  the 
grave,  he  remained  perfectly  sound  and  resigned.  He  was 
once  thrown  from  a  carriage  and  trodden  under  the  feet  of 
the  horses,  so  that  an  arm  and  one  of  his  feet  were  dislocated,^ 
but.  by  a  still  more  temperate  diet,  and  without  the  use  of  any 
medicine,  he  was  soon  restored  to  his  former  condition. 

7.  But  what  is  most  worthy  of  remark,  and  proves  how 
dangerous  the  smallest  deviation  from  long  custom  may  be, 
is  what  follows :  When  he  was  eighty  years  of  age  his  friends 
prevailed  upon  him  to  make  a  little  addition  to  his  food,  in 
the  belief  that  his  body  now  required  more  nourishment. 
Though  well  aware  that  with  the  general  decay  of  strength 
the  power  of  digestion  decreases  also,  and  that  in  old  age  one 
ought  rather  to  lessen  than  increase  the  quantity  of  nourish- 
ment, he  gave  way  to  their  request,  and  raised  his  food  to 
fourteen,  and  his  drink  to  sixteen  ounces. 

8.  "Scarcely,"  says  he,  "had  I  continued  this  mode  of  Uv- 


44 


wtllson's  foiteth  eeader. 


Paet  I. 


ing  ten  days  when  I  began,  instead  of  being  lively  and  cheer- 
ful as  before,  to  become  uneasy  and  dejected,  a  burden  to 
myself*  and  to  others.  On  the  twelfth  day  I  w^as  seized  with 
a  pain  in  my  side,  which  lasted  twenty-four  hours,  and  this 
was  followed  by  a  fever  which  continued  with  so  much  vio- 
lence for  thirty-five  days  that  my  life  was  despaired  of;  but, 
by  the  blessing  of  God,  and  my  former  temperate  mode  of 
hie,  I  recovered,  and  now,  in  my  eighty-third  year,  I  enjoy  a 
happy  state  both  of  body  and  mind. 

9,  "I  can  mount  my  horse  without  assistance;  I  climb 
steej)  hills ;  and  I  have  lately  written  a  play  abounding  in  in- 
nocent wit  and  humor.  When  I  return  from  a  private  com- 
pany, or  the  senate,  I  find  eleven  grandchildren,  w^hose  edu- 
cation, amusement,  and  songs  are  the  delight  of  my  old  age. 
I  often  sing  with  them,  for  my  voice  is  now  clearer  and 
stronger  than  it  ever  was  in  my  youth ;  and  I  am  a  stranger 
to  those  peevish^  and  morose^  humors^  which  fall  so  often  to 
the  lot  of  old  age."  In  this  happy  disposition  the  wise  and 
virtuous  Cornaro  attained  to  his  hundredth  year,  but  his  ex- 
ample has  seldom,  if  ever,  been  imitated. 


1.  Pae-tic'-i-pa-ting,  taking  part  in ;  par- 
taking. 

2  Dis-si-pa'-tion,  a  dissolute  or  intemper- 
ate course  of  life. 

3  Dl6'-L0-€A-TED,  put  OUt  of  joint. 


*  Pee'-vibh,  fretful, 
s  Mo-eose',  sour ;  sullen. 
6  IIC'-MOES,  peculiarities  of  temper  or  die- 
position. 


LESSON  XI. 
ADVANTAGES  OF  TEMPERANCE  IN  DIET. 

HITCHCOCK. 

1.  Temperance  promotes  clearness  and  vigor  of  intellect. 
If  the  brain  be  not  in  a  healthy  and  vigorous  state,  equally 
unhealthy  and  inefficient  must  be  the  mind  also.  History 
will  bear  us  out  in  asserting,  that  the  highest  and  most  suc- 
cessfufKntellectuaP  efforts  have  ever  been  associated  with  the 
practice  of  those  general  principles  of  temperance  in  diet  for 
which  we  plead. 

2.  It  is  the  mighty  minds  that  have  grappled  most  success- 
fully with  the  demonstrations^  of  mathematical,  intellectual, 
and  moral  science,  that  stand  highest  on  the  scale  of  mental 


Ist  DiV.  OP  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  45 

acumen^  and  power ;  and  it  is  such  minds  that  have  found 
strict  temperance  in  diet  essential  to  their  success.  Let  us 
advert  to  the  history  of  a  few  of  the  master  spirits  of  the 
human  race.     .    * 

3.  Foremost  on  the  list  stands  that  eminent  philosopher 
and  mathematician,  Sir  Isaac  Newton.  The  treatise*  of  his, 
that  cost  him  the  mightiest  intellectual  effort  of  all  his  works, 
was  composed  while  the  body  was  sustained  by  bread  and 
water  alo:^e.  And  in  spite  of  the  wear  and  tear  of  such  pro- 
tracted and  prodigious  mental  labor  as  his,  that  same  temper- 
ance sustained  him  to  his  eighty-fifth  year. 

4.  That  celebrated  intellectual  philosopher,  John  Locke, 
with  a  feeble  constitution,^  outlived  the  term  of  threescore^ 
years  and  ten  by  his  temperance.  "  To  this  temperate  mode 
of  life,  too,  he  was  probably  indebted  for  the  increase  of  those 
intellectual  powers,  which  gave  birth  to  his  great  work  on  the 
human  understanding,  his  treatises  on  government  and  edu- 
cation, as  well  as  his  other  writings,  which  do  so  much  honor 
to  his  memory." 

5.  Another  intellectual  philosopher,  who  saw  fourscore 
years,  w^as  the  venerable  Kant.  "  By  this  commendable  and 
healthy  practice,"  early  rising,  says  his  biographer,  "  daily 
exercise  on  foot,  temperance  in  eating  and  drinking,  constant 
employment,  and  cheerful  company,  he  protracted  his  life  to 
this  advanced  period ;"  and  we  may  add,  acquired  the  power 
for  his  immense  labors  of  mind. 

6.  Few  men  have  more  fully  established  their  claims  to  in- 
tellectual superiority  of  a  very  high  grade  than  that  American 
theologian.  President  Edwards.  But  it  was  temperance  alone 
that  could  carry  him  through  such  powerful  mental  efibrts. 
"  Though  of  a  delicate  constitution,  by  the  rules  of  temper- 
ance he  enjoyed  good  health,  and  was  enabled  to  pursue  his 
studies  thirteen  hours  a  day." 

7.  The  same  means  enabled  the  great  German  reformer, 
Martin  Luther,  though  his  days  were  stormy  in  the  extreme, 
to  make  the  moral  world  bend  at  his  will,  and  to  leave  for 
his  posterity  so  many  profound  literary  productions.  "It 
often  happened,"  says  his  biographer,  "  that  for  several  days 
and  nights  he  locked  himself  up  in  his  study,  and  took  no 


46  willson's  foueth  eeader.  Part  I. 

other  nourishment  than  bread  and  water,  that  he  might  the 
more  uninterruptedly  pursue  his  labors." 

8.  The  records  of  English  jurisprudence"^  contain  scarcely 
a  name  more  distinguished  than  that  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale. 
And  it  is  the  testimony  of  history,  that  "  his  decided  piety 
and  rigid  temperance  laid  him  operf  to  the  attacks  of  ridicule ; 
but  he  could  not  be  moved."  In  eating  and  drinking,  he  ob- 
served not  only  great  plainness  and  moderation,  but  lived  so 
philosophically  that  he  always  ended  his  meal  with  an  appe- 
tite. 

9.  Perhaps  no  man  has  accomphshed  more  for  the  world 
than  he  who  has  written  such  a  commentary  on  the  Scriptures 
as  that  of  Matthew  Henry.  And  it  is,  indeed,  an  immense 
literary  labor.  But  the  biographer's  account  of  that  writer's 
habits  shows  that  temperance  and  diligence  were  the  secret 
of  his  success. 

10.  Few  men  have  accomplished  more  than  the  distinguish- 
ed Methodist  divine,  John  Wesley ;  and  it  is  gratifying  to 
learn  that  it  was  "  extraordinary  temperance  which  gave  him 
the  power  to  do  so  much,  and  to  live  so  long." 

11.  In  reading  the  poetical  works  of  Milton,  we  are  not  so 
much  delighted  with  the  play  of  imagination,  as  with  the  rich 
and  profound  views  which  he  opens  before  us.  The  fact  is,  he 
was  a  man  of  powers  and  attainments  so  great  as  justly  to  be 
classed  among  the  leading  intellects  of  the  world.  Nor  were 
such  powers  and  attainments  disjoined^  from  temperance. 

12.  Europe,  as  well  as  America,  has  been  filled  with  the 
fame  of  Franklin,  the  philosopher ;  and  no  less  wide  spread 
is  the  history  of  his  temperance.  Early  in  life  he  adopted  a 
vegetable  diet ;  and  thus  he  not  only  gained  time  for  study, 
but  "  I  made  the  greater  progress,"  says  he,  "  from  that  great- 
er clearness  of  head  and  quickness  of  apprehension  which 
generally  attend  temperance  in  eating  and  drinking."  The 
habit  of  being  contented  with  a  little,  and  disregarding  the 
gratifications  of  the  palate,^  remained  with  him  through  life. 

1  In-tkl-lect'-C-al,  pertaining  to  the  mind!*  €on-sti-tO'-tion,  bodily  system  ;  the  hu* 

or  intellect.  |    man  body  itself. 

3  Dem-on-steS'-tion,  the  act  of  stating  and  6  'i'nuKK'-stoKE,  a  score  is  twenty. 

proving  truths.  y  Ju-Ris-rRc'-DENOE,  the  science  of  law. 

3  A-€C'-MEN,  quickness  of  mind  ;  readiness.  8  Dis-joined',  separated  from. 
*  TbEat'-isb  itreet'-u)^  a  written  work.        !»  Pal'-ate,  taste ;  the  appetite. 


1st  DlV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH. 


47 


LESSON  XII. 

THE   CONFESSION. 
Blackwood's  magazine. 

1.  There's  somewhat  on  my  breast\  father'", 

There's  somewhat  on  my  breast^ ! 
The  Hve-long  day  I  sigh\  father', 

At  night  I  can  not  rest^ ; 
I  can  not  take  my  rest\  father', 

Though  I  w^ould  fam^  do  so, 
A  weary  weight  oj^presseth  me — 

The  weary  weight  of  woe ! 

2.  'Tis  not  the  lack  of  gold',  father', 

Nor  lack  of  worldly  gear'  f 
My  lands  are  broad  and  fair  to  see, 

My  friends  are  kind  and  dear ; 
My  kin  are  leaP  and  true\  father,' 

They  mourn  to  see  my  grief,' 
But,  O !  'tis  not  a  kinsman's  hand 

Can  give  my  heart  relief! 

2.  'Tis  not  that  Janet's  false',  father', 

'Tis  not  that  she's  unkind' ; 
Though  busy  flatterers  swarm  around, 

I  know  her  constant  mind. 
'Tis  not  her  coldness',  father'. 

That  chills  my  laboring  breast'. 
It's  that  confounded*  cucumber 

I've  eat,5  and  can't  digest ! 


1  Fain,  gladly ;  •with  joy  or  pleasure. 

2  Gkar,  clothing ;  ornaments ;  possessions. 

3  Leal  (Scottish),  faithful. 


*  €oN-pouNi>'-ED,  that  which  ou^ht  to  be 

condemned. 
5  "I've  eat,"  a  poetic  license  for  "J  have 

eaten." 


Temperance  is  the  best  physic. 

The  best  physicians  are  Dr.  Diet,  Dr.  Quiet,  and  Dr.  Merry- 
man. 
Diet  cures  more  than  the  lancet. 


48  WILLSON  S  FOUETH   KEADEK.  Part  I 


LESSON  xm. 

THE  ORGANS  OF  CIRCULATION  AND  OF  RESPIRATION : 
The  Heakt,  Aktekies,  Capillaries,  Veins,  and  Lungs. 

1.  Near  the  centre  of  the  upper  portion  of  the  body,  but 
a  little  on  the  left  side,  is  the  hearty  the  great  working  engine 
which  sends  the  blood  to  all  portions  of  the  system,  to  do  its 
work  of  building  up  and  keeping  in  rej^air  the  house  we 
live  in.  We  have  given  a  brief  account  of  the  formation  of 
the  blood — the  material  which  the  heart  uses;  and  we  now 
proceed  to  describe  the  manner  in  which  this  building  and 
repairing  process  is  carried  on. 

2.  We  will  commence  by  informing  you  that  your  hearty  a 
drawing  of  which  we  place  before  you,  is  a  strong  muscular 
organ,  but  little  larger  than  your  fist,  and  containing  four 
cavities.  The  upper  cavity  on  the  right  side,  which  is  called 
the  right  auricle^  receives  the  blood  from  the  body  through 
a  number  of  large  veins  ;  this  auricle  then  contracts^  by  the 
power  of  its  muscles,  and  forces  the  blood  into  the  cavity  be- 
low it,  called  the  right  ventricle?  The  right  ventricle  then, 
contracts  and  sends  the  blood  to  the  lungs  ;  the  left  auricle^ 
which  is  the  upper  cavity  on  the  left  side  of  the  heart,  receives 
the  blood  back  from  the  lungs,  and  forces  it  into  the  left  ven- 
tricle below  it ;  and  the  left  ventricle  forces  the  blood  through 
the  arteries  all  over  the  body. 

3.  This  is  a  very  brief  explanation  of  the  labor  which  the 
heart  has  to  perform  in  circulating  the  blood.  But  now  let  us 
trace  the  course  which  the  blood  takes,  from  the  time  when  it 
is  received  from  the  body  into  the  right  auricle  until  it  has  per- 
formed its  round  of  circulation  and  gets  back  again ;  then  we 
shall  begin  to  realize  what  a  curious  and  wonderful  piece  of 
machinery  these  circulating  and  breathing  organs  are. 

4.  When  the  blood  is  received  into  the  right  auricle  of  the 
heart  it  is  of  a  dark  color,  and  full  of  the  waste  and  impure 
particles  which  it  has  received  from  aU  parts  of  the  body. 
K  this  impure  blood  should  be  sent  in  this  condition  through- 
out the  body,  death  would  very  soon  be  the  result.    The 


1st  Dir.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND    HEALTH. 


49 


blood,  therefore,  must  be  cleansed,  and  the  impure  particles 
thrown  away,  and  for  this  purpose  the  right  ventricle  takes 
charge  of  it  and  sends  it  to  the  lungs. 

5.  But  how  can  the  lungs  purify  the  blood  ?  In  order  to 
explain  how,  we  must  first  describe  the  lungs  themselves. 
The  lungs  are  large  sponge-like  masses,  which  fill  up  nearly 
the  whole  cavity  of  the  chest  on  each  side  of  the  heart.  The 
air  which  we  breathe  passes  into  them ;  and  through  a  vast 
number  of  little  channels,  which  terminate  in  very  minute  air- 
cells,  it  is  brought  in  contact  with  every  portion  of  the  sponge- 
like structm-e  of  the  lungs. 

6.  The  arteries  which  run  from  the  right  ventricle  to  the 
lungs  branch  out  in  millions  of  little  tubes,  not  so  large  as  a 


Fig.  11. 

ClECtTLATIOX  OV  THE  ElOOD  THROUGH  THE  HeART  AND  LtTNGB. 


The  Right  Auricle  re- 
ceives  the  impure  ve- 
nous blood  from  the  body 
thiough  the  veins  D.V. 
(the  descending  vena 
cava"),  and  A.  V.  (the  as 
cend  ing  vena  cava). 

At  /  is  the  opening 
through  which  the  blood 
is  forced  into  the  right 
ventricle.  Here  ia  the 
t  iLuspid  valce^  wliich 
closes  when  the  blood  at- 
tempts to  return. 

The  Right  Ventricle^ 
hy  contracting,  forces  the 
impure  blood  through 
the  two  branches  of  the 
pulmonary  artery  {P.  A.) 
mto  both  lungs.  The 
lids  of  the  valve  at  d 
Av  ould  close  if  the  blood 
-houLd  attempt  to  re- 
tui  n 

1  he  blood,  having 
been  purified  in  the 
lungi  and  lost  its  darlc 
coloi ,  is  sent  back  to  the 
htdit  through  several 
canals,  which  fonn  at 
length  four  large  trunks 
calk  d  jnilvionary  veins^ 
and  these  terminate  in 
the  Left  Auricle  by  one 

common  opening,  as  seen  at  o.     Only  two  of  these  pulmonary  veins,  P.  F.,  P.  F.,  are  seen 

in  the  drawing. 
The  Left  Auricle  forces  the  blood  into  the  Left  Ventricle^  through  the  opening  rr, 

where  is  placed  the  mitral  valve  to  prevent  its  return.     The  Left  Ventricle  then  forces 

the  blood  into  the  large  artery  called  the  aorta,  which  distributes  it  to  all  parts  of  the 

body,  to  be  returned  again  to  the  Right  Auricle  through  the  veins  A .  V.  and  D.  F. 
When  the  blood  is  forced  into  the  aorta,  the  lids  of  the  valve  at  the  entrance  e  fall 

back  against  the  sides  of  the  artery ;  but  when  the  blood  attempts  to  return,  they  come 

together  and  prevent  it. 
At  a,  ^,  and  c  are  arteries  branching  off  from  the  aorta  to  the  head,  arms,  etc. 

c 


50 


WILLSON'S   FOUETH   EEADEK. 


Part  I. 


hair,  all  over  the  ah'-channels  and  air-cells  of  the  lungs,  and  by 
them  the  blood  is  brought  into  close  contact  with  the  air  we 
breathe.  The  impure  particles  of  the  blood,  which  are  found 
chiefly  in  what  we  shall  hereafter  describe  as  carbonic  acid^ 
gas,  are  now  thrown  into  the  air-cells  and  air-channels,  and 
breathed  out  of  the  body  through  the  mouth  and  nostrils  in 
the  form  of  vapor.  At  the  same  time,  the  remaining  blood  in 
the  blood-vessels  of  the  lungs  takes  in  a  portion  of  oxygeyi 
from  the  air,  and  receives  thereby  a  bright  red  color,  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  dark  hue  it  had  on  entering  the  lungs.  The 
blood,  being  thus  purified,  is  returned  to  the  heart,  from  which 
it  is  again  sent  forth  through  channels  called  arteries  to  every 
part  of  the  body. 

7.  These  arteries  branch  out  into  the  smallest  tubes  that 
can  be  conceived,  many  of  them  invisible  to  the  naked  eye. 
They  spread  over  every  muscle  and  bone  in  the  body,  and 
throughout  the  skin,  and  from  the  blood  thus  received  every 
part  of  the  body  is  built  up. 

8.  How  wonderful  it  is  that  this  single  fluid — formed,  per- 
haps, as  it  may  be,  out  of  some  one  simple  material,  such  as  the 


Fig.  12.  While  Fig.  11  is  a  diagram  design- 

Thb  Hkakt  and  Lungs,  with  the  Outer  Cover-  ^d  to  show  the  manner  in  which  the 


IKQ  OF  Ti£B  Lungs  Uemoved. 


blood  circulates  through  the  heart  and 
lungs,  and  can  not,  therefore,  be  a 
strictly  accurate  drawing  of  those  or- 
gans, Fig.  12  is  a  true  representation 
of  the  heart  in  its  natural  position, 
showing  also  the  lungs,  after  their 
front  outer  covering  has  been  removed. 

At  12  is  the  Idr'-yyix^  or  upper  part 
of  the  windpipe;  11  is  the  trd'-che-d^or 
windpipe,  -which  conve3'3  air  to  the 
lungs.  Back  of  the  upper  part  of  the 
heart  the  trd'-che-d  divides  into  the 
two  bronchial  tubcft.  These  bronchial 
tubes  branch  out  all  over  the  lungs  in 
minute  subdivisions,  and  ultimately 
terminate  in  a  vast  number  of  minute 
air-cells,  from  the  twentieth  to  the 
himdredth  of  an  inch  in  diameter. 
These  air-cells  are  so  numerous  that 
the  amount  of  surface  contained  in 
their  lining  m'embrane  in  man  hj^  been 
computed  to  exceed  140  square  feet ! 

At  1  is  seen  a  part  of  the  left  auricle, 
most  of  this  auricle  being  on  the  back 
part  of  the  heart ;  2,  right  auricle ;  3, 
left  ventricle;  4,  right  ventricle;  5, 
pulmonary  artery ;  6,  aorta  ;  7,  de- 
scending rena  cava ;  13,  upper  lobe  of 
right  lung ;  14,  upper  lobe  of  left  lung; 
16,  IG,  lower  lobea  of  lungs. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  61 

potato — should  be  capable  of  being  put  to  so  many  different 
uses !  that  out  of  it  the  brittle  bones  are  made,  the  soft  and 
pulpy  brain,  the  hard  and  horny  nails,  the  silky  haii',  the  flesh, 
the  fat,,the  skin,  the  bitter  bile,  the  salt  perspiration,  every 
thing,  in  fact,  from  the  sweat  on  the  brow  of  labor  to  the 
dew  on  the  Hp  of  beauty !  And  yet  such  is  the  case.  A 
mysterious  poAver,  engaged  in  building  up  and  nourishing  our 
bodies,  is  constantly  working  within  us — a  power  which  we 
can  not  fathom,  which  we  can  not  comprehend.  He  only, 
who  created  it,  knows  the  hidden  causes  of  its  action. 

9.  At  the  ends  of  the  myriads*  of  minute  channels  in  which 
the  arteries  terminate,  are  the  beginnings  of  other  minute 
channels  which  receive  the  blood,  and  use  it  in  repairing  the 
body.  All  these  minute  hair-like  blood-vessels,  which  con- 
nect the  arteries  and  the  veins,  are  called  capillaries.^  Into 
the  returning  veins  such  particles  of  the  body  as  are  worn 
out  and  useless  are  carried  by  the  capillaries,  and  thus  the 
Wood  again  begins  to  be  filled  with  impurities;  and  by  the 
time  it  gets  back  to  the  right  auricle  of  the  heart  it  is  a  dark 
and  filthy  stream,  and  must  be  again  sent  to  the  lungs  to  have 
its  color  and  its  purity  restored. 

10.  Such  is  the  circuit  which  the  blood  is  constantly  mak- 
ing, in  carrying  on  the  repairs  of  the  system,  and  removing 
its  waste  particles.  And  all  the  blood  in  the  body,  which  is 
estimated  at  nearly  ten  quarts  in  a  person  of  full  size,  is  sup- 
posed to  pass  through  the  heart  as  often  as  once  in  six  or  eight 
minutes.  The  heart  is  the  great  engine  which  keeps  it  in  mo- 
tion. And  so  long  as  life  lasts,  it  keeps  beating  away,  stroke 
after  stroke — sometimes  seventy  or  eighty,  and  sometimes 
more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  times  in  a  minute — forcing  the 
blood  onward  through  the  arteries,  dispersing  it  through  the 
capillaries,  receiving  it  back  through  the  veins,  never  stopping 
a  moment,  and  never  wearying  of  the  labor  which  God  has 
assigned  to  it. 

11.  And  all  this  it  does  without  any  thought  of  ours,  and 
without  any  direction  from  us.  Its  action  is  involuntary — 
that  is,  it  is  not,  like  the  movements  of  our  hands  and  feet, 
dependent  on  our  will.  Our  will  can  not  even  stop  its  ac- 
tion ;  for  it  works  by  a  will  greater  than  ours,  by  the  will  of 


62 


willson's  fourth  keadee. 


Part  I. 


Him  who  made  it,  whose  servant  it  is,  and  whose  servants 
we  are.  Yet  its  labors  gradually  wear  upon  it ;  it  can  not 
keep  going  forever.  It  seems  strange  to  us  that  it  should 
keep  going  so  long.  But  though  it  may  exert  itself  millions 
of  times  in  our  service,  each  pulsation  brings  it  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  end. 

"Art  is  long,  and  time  is  fleeting ; 

And  our  hearts^  though  stout  and  brave, 
Still,  like  muffled  druins,  are  beating 
Funeral  inarches  to  the  grave.'''' 


»  ^u'-Ei-cxE  (from  the  Latin  auris^  an  ear), 
so  called  from  its  supposed  resemblance 
to  the  ear  of  a  quadruped. 

2  €ON-TBA€Tt(',  draws  together. 

3  Ven'-tei-€lb  ;  this  word  is  applied,  gen- 


erally, to  cavities  in  animal  bodies.  There 

are  ventricles  in  the  brain. 
*  Myr'-i-ad8,  countless  numbers. 
5  €ap'-il-t,a-bie8  (from  the  Latin  capillus^ 

a  hair),  long  hair-like  tubes. 


LESSON  XIV. 
A  HYMN. 

1.  When-  I  with  curious  eyes  survey 

My  complicated  frame, 
I  read  in  every  part  inscribed 
My  great  Creator's  name. 

2.  He  bade^  the  purple  flood  of  life 

In  circling  streams  to  flow. 
And  sent  the  genial  heat  around. 
Through  every  part  to  glow. 

3.  My  heaving  lungs,  while  they  have  power 

To  fan  the  vital  frame. 
Shall  sing  thy  praises,  O  my  God  ! 
Thy  wond'rous  skill  proclaim. 

'  Pronounced  bad. 


AIR  AND  EXERCISE. 

LONDON   QUARTERLY   REVIEW. 


Special  attention  should  be  given,  both  by  parents  and 
teachers,  to  the  physical  development  of  the  child.  Pure  air 
and  free  exercise  are  indispensable,  and  wherever  either  of 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  63 

these  is  withheld,  the  consequences  will  be  certain  to  extend 
themselves  over  the  whole  future  life.  The  seeds  of  protract- 
ed and  hopeless  suffering  have,  in  innumerable  instances, 
been  sown  in  the  constitution  of  the  child  simply  through 
ignorance  of  this  grea;t  fundamental  physical  law ;  and  the 
time  has  come  when  the  united  voices  of  these  innocent  vic- 
tims should  ascend,  "trumpet-tongued,"  to  the  ears  of  every 
parent  and  every  teacher  in  the  land.  "  Give  us  free  air  and 
wholesome  exercise ;  give  us  leave  to  develop  our  expanding 
energies  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  our  being;  give  us 
full  scope  for  the  elastic  and  bounding  impulses  of  our  youth- 
ful blood!" 


LESSON  XV. 
ABUSES  OF  THE  LUNGS. 

1.  As  the  chief  office  of  the  lungs  is  to  purify  the  blood, 
through  the  medium  of  the  air  which  is  taken  into  them  in 
breathing,  it  will  readily  be  seen  that  if  impure  air  be  in- 
haled,^ the  blood  will  not  be  purified.  Pure  air  is  composed 
chiefly  of  two  invisible  gases,  which  are  always  mixed  in  ex- 
actly the  same  proportions  —  that  is,  a  hundred  pounds  of 
pure  air  consist  of  twenty-one  pounds  of  oxygen  and  seven- 
ty-nine of  nitrogen.  The  proportions  are  the  same  whether 
the  air  be  collected  on  the  top  of  high  mountains,  over 
marshes,  or  over  deserts. 

2.  When  this  air  is  taken  into  the  lungs,  the  blood  sent 
there  from  the  heart  is  purified  in  the  following  manner. 
The  oxygen  of  the  air,  having  a  strong  affinity  for  the  blood 
— that  is,  having  a  strong  tendency  to  unite  with  it  —  leaves 
the  nitrogen,  and,  passing  into  the  blood-vessels,  mixes  there 
with  the  blood  and  the  chyle,  and  completes  the  process  of 
changing  the  latter  into  pure  blood.  This  is  the  first  step  in 
the  process.     The  second  is  the  following : 

3.  The  waste  particles  of  the  body  consist  chiefly  of  a  sub- 
stance called  carbon^  which  has  a  strong  affinity  for  oxygen 
— ^that  is,  it  unites  readily  with  it.  The  union  of  carbon  and 
oxygen  forms  what  is  called  carbonic  acid  gas,  which  is  a 


54  willson's  fourth  EEADER.  Part  I. 

poison  to  the  body,  and  needs  to  be  removed  from.  it.  This 
union  of  the  waste  particles  of  the  body  with,  oxygen  is  ef- 
fected in  the  capillary  blood-vessels  which  we  have  before 
described ;  and  the  impurities  of  the  blood  in  the  veins  are 
thus  changed  into  carbonic  acid  gas,  for  the  purpose  of  be' 
ing  easily  removed.  When  the  blood  reaches  the  lungs, 
the  carbonic  acid  gas,  which  mixes  readily  with  the  air,  is 
thrown  off  through  the  mouth  and  nostrils  in  the  process  of 
breathing.  Thus  the  process  of  purifying  the  blood  is  com- 
pleted. 

4.  It  is  the  chemicaP  union  of  carbon  and  oxygen  in  the 
capillary  vessels  that  gives  loarmtli  to  the  body.  When  a 
piece  of  wood  is  burned  in  the  open  air,  the  same  kind  of 
union  between  the  carbon  of  the  wood  and  the  oxygen  of  the 
air  takes  place,  and  carhonic  acid  gas  is  produced  by  the  fire, 
the  same  as  by  the  union  of  carbon  and  oxygen  in  our  bodies. 
Thus  there  is  a  slow  fire  constantly  burning  within  us.  The 
stomach  provides  the  fuel,  the  lungs  supply  the  oxygen  to 
consume  it,  the  arteries  carry  the  fuel  and  fire  to  the  capilla- 
ries, where  the  combustion^  takes  i^lace,  and  the  smoke  pass- 
es off  through  the  mouth  and  nostrils.  If  w^e  should  allow 
that  fire  to  go  out  by  not  providing  a  supply  of  carbon  in  our 
food,  and  of  oxygen  in  the  air  we  breathe,  the  result  would 
be  death. 

5.  The  poisonous  carbonic  acid  gas,  whether  thrown  off 
from  the  lungs  or  produced  by  combustion,  can  not  be  in- 
haled without  danger,  as  it  not  only  furnishes  no  oxygen  for 
purifying  the  blood,  but  it  adds  additional  poison  to  it.  The 
quantity  of  this  gas  thrown  off  from  the  lungs  of  a  man  is  not 
less  than  twenty-four  cubic  inches  each  minute,  or  more  than 
six  gallons  during  an  hour ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  an  equal 
quantity  of  oxygen  is  withdrawn  from  the  air  around  him,  so 
that  a  very  large  quantity  of  air  is  thus  rendered  impure,  and 
unfit  to  be  taken  into  the  lungs. 

6.  We  see  at  once,  therefore,  the  danger  of  breathing  over 
again  our  own  breath,  or  the  breath  of  others.  When  a  per- 
son sleeps  with  his  head  covered  by  the  bedclothes,  he  is 
breathing  poisoned  air ;  and,  if  he  sleeps  in  a  small  and  close 
room,  he  is  in  danger  from  the  same  cause.    A  close  room, 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTg.  66 

crowded  with  persons,  soon  becomes  so  filled  with  the  poi- 
sonous gas  as  to  produce  a  kind  of  stupor*  and  violent  head- 
ache in  those  who  breathe  it.  Crowded  school-rooms,  church, 
es,  and  all  pubUc  assembly  rooms,  therefore  require  to  be 
ventilated^  by  the  constant  or  frequent  admission  of  fresh 
air,  in  order  to  remove  the  poison  and  furnish  a  new  supply 
of  oxygen. 

7.  Many  sad  results  have  occurred  from  an  ignorance  or 
disregard  of  this  principle,  but  we  have  room  to  cite  only 
one.  In  the  year  1756  one  hundred  and  forty-six  English- 
men were  shut  up  in  Calcutta,  in  a  room  called  the  Black 
Hole,  which  was  a  confined  space,  partly  undergroimd,  and 
only  eighteen  feet  square.  There  were  only  two  very  small 
windows  by  which  air  could  be  admitted,  and,  as  both  of 
these  were  on  the  same  side,  a  free  ventilation  was  utterly 
impossible. 

8.  Scai^ely  was  the  door  closed  upon  the  prisoners  when 
their  suflerings  commenced,  and  in  a  short  time  a  delirious^ 
and  mortaP  struggle  ensued  to  get  near  the  windows.  With- 
in four  hours  those  who  survived  lay  in  the  silence  of  apo- 
plectic^  stupor ;  and,  at  the  end  of  six  hours,  ninety-six  had 
been  relieved  by  death.  In  the  morning,  when  the  door  was 
opened,  only  twenty-three  were  found  alive ;  and  many  of 
these  were  subsequently  carried  off  by  putrid  fevers,  caused 
by  the  poisonous  air  which  they  had  breathed. 

9.  As  no  heat  or  combustion  can  be  produced  without 
consuming  oxygen,  and  giving  out  in  its  place  carbonic  acid 
gas,  we  learn  that  the  air  of  highly-heated  rooms  must  be 
impure.  If  a  lighted  taper  be  placed  in  a  closed  jar  contain- 
ing common  air,  the  oxygen  will  soon  be  burned  up,  its  place 
will  be  supplied  with  carbonic  acid  gas  and  vapor,  and  the 
light  of  the  taper  will  be  extinguished.  If  a  living  animal,  a 
"mouse,  for  example,  be  now  placed  in  the  jar,  and  especially 
at  the  lower  part  of  it,  the  animal  will  almost  immediately  go 
into  convulsions,^  and  die  in  two  or  three  minutes. 

10.  As  pure  charcoal  consists  wholly  of  carbon,  the  burn- 
ing of  charcoal  produces  a  large  quantity  of  carbonic  acid 
gas ;  and  every  year  cases  occur  of  individuals  having  lost 
their  lives  by  entering  close  rooms  in  which  charcoal  was 


56 


willson's  foueth  eeadee. 


Part  I. 


burning.  As  this  gas  is  much  heavier  than  common  ah-,  it 
may  occupy  the  lower  portion  of  a  room  near  the  floor,  while 
the  air  above  may  be  nearly  free  from  its  influence.  Persons 
have  also  lost  their  lives  by  descending  into  deep  pits,  wells, 
and  mines,  which  contain  carbonic  acid  gas.  Before  venturing 
into  such  places  the  precaution  should  be  used  of  letting  down 
a  Hghted  candle ;  if  the  light  be  extinguished,  or  burn  feebly, 
carbonic  acid  may  be  known  to  exist  there.* 

11.  From  the  principles  explained,  it  must  be  evident  to 
every  one  that  whatever  deprives  the  lungs  of  their  natural 
supply  of  oxygen,  prevents  the  complete  purification  of  the 
blood,  by  retaining  the  poisonous  carbonic  acid  gas  in  the 
system,  thereby  sowing  the  seeds  of  disease  and  death.  When 
air  is  taken  into  the  lungs  in  breathing,  so  as  to  fill  them,  the 
lungs  swell  out,  and  the  chest  enlarges  by  its  own  free  action, 
so  as  to  give  them  an  abundance  of  room ;  but  if  the  muscles 
and  ribs  of  the  chest  be  restrained  by  pressure  frojii  expand- 
ing freely,  the  required  suj^ply  of  oxygen  can  not  be  obtained. 

12.  And  yet,  notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  said  and 
written  on  this  subject,  there  are  those  who  scarcely  seem  to 


The  eflfect  produced  upon  the  ribs  by  compressing  tlie  chest,  tlirough  a  long  continued 
practice  of  tight  lacing,  may  be  seen  in  Fig.  14,  which  is  no  caricature,  but  is  what  ia 
often  seen  in  real  life.  In  Fig.  13  the  ribs  are  seen  in  their  natural  healthy  position, 
gradually  swelling  out  from  above,  and  affording  abundance  of  room  for  a  full  inflation  ^k 
of  the  lungs.  In  Fig  14  the  chest  has  been  made  by  tight  lacing  to  assume  the  form  of  ^^■ 
an  inverted  cone ;  the  ribs  are  brought  much  more  closely  together  than  is  natural,  and 
pressed  downward  ;  and  the  capacity  of  the  lungs  is  diminished  nearly  one  half.  In  the 
same  proportion  is  the  supply  of  oxygen  diminished,  and  the  impurities  of  the  blood  re- 
tained in  the  system. 

Fig.  13.  Fig.  14. 

The  Skeleton  as  Nature  formud  it.  The  Skeleton  as  DEFOUiiED  by  Art. 


•  When  discovered  it  may  often  be  absorbed  by  quick  lime,  when  it  can  not  be  draira 
off  or  dissipated  by  ventilation. 


1st  Dir.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  57 

be  aware,  if  we  may  judge  from  their  actions,  that  any  harm 
can  arise  from  compressing  the  ribs,  and  thereby  preventing 
the  free  expansion  of  the  lungs !  Many  will  doubtless  be 
startled  on  being  seriously  told  that  tight  lacing  of  the  chest 
poisons  the  current  of  life  at  its  fountain  head !  But  there  is 
abundant  warrant  for  the  oft-repeated  assertion,  however 
harsh  it  may  seem,  that  this  practice  is  only  a  fashionable 
mode  of  self-murder !  Yet  weak-minded  mothers,  as  devoid 
of  correct  taste  as  they  are  destitute  of  just  notions  of  parent- 
al duty,  and  holding  a  silly  fashion  dearer  than  life  itself,  con- 
tinue to  initiate  their  daughters  in  this  folly  and  wickedness ; 
and  they  begin  this  torture  of  their  children  at  the  tender 
age  when  the  bones  of  the  body  are  so  soft  and  yielding,  that 
they  soon  grow  into  the  deformity  with  which  Art  attempts 
to  supplant  Nature ! 

13.  The  consequences  of  compressing  the  chest  by  tight 
lacing,  or  by  tight-fitting  dresses^  as  described  by  all  physi- 
cians and  physiologists,  are  usually  these.  If  the  victim  be 
originally  strong  and  robust,  the  flushed  face  soon  indicates 
the  torture  which  the  brain  endures.  ligature,  restrained  in 
one  direction,  makes  known  its  wants  in  another,  and  gives 
undue  expansion  to  the  head,  arms,  and  shoulders,  and  lower 
extremities.  The  hands  and  feet  become  large  and  clumsy, 
the  spine  becomes  distorted,  and  the  body  is  made  crooked. 
But  persevering  Art  at  length  overcomes  the  energy  of  Na- 
ture, and  a  long  train  of  nervous  affections  gradually  tortures 
the  victim  to  death. 

14.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the  victim  be  originally  frail 
and  delicate,  Nature  is  soon  conquered,  and  the  final  result  is 
more  speedily  attained.  As  a  first  indication  of  the  consum- 
ing poison  within,  the  glow  of  health  fades  from  the  cheek, 
and  the  rose  gives  place  to  the  lily,  the  appetite  is  soon  gone, 
digestion  becomes  bad,  and  a  hectic^^  flush  and  hacking 
cough,  the  precursors'^  of  a  hasty  consumption,  point  too 
surely  to  an  early  grave. 

15.  Some  persons  have  small  taper  waists  from  birth ;  but, 
as  it  is  against  the  general  law  of  Nature,  and  an  indication 
of  a  frail  and  sickly  body,  it  may  justly  be  considered  a  de- 
formity.  Such,  indeed,  it  was  regarded  by  the  ancient  Greeks, 

C2 


58 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH   READER. 


Part  I. 


whose  model  of  female  beauty,  the  Yenus  de  Medicis,^^  ^^m 
the  acknowledged  standard  among  the  refined  and  intelligent 
of  all  nations,  presents,  in  the  fully  developed  waist,  that  per- 
fect natural  symmetry  of  the  human  form  which  alone  is 
consistent  with  the  healthy  action  of  the  organs  of  Hfe. 

16.  The  defect  of  a  waist  unhealthily  small  may  generally 
be  remedied,  and  a  healthy  form  attained,  by  a  judicious  ex- 
ercise of  the  lungs,  by  walking  in  the  open  air,  reading  aloud, 
singing,  sitting  erect,  and  fully  infiatingi^  the  lungs  at  each 
inspiration.^'^ .  If  the  exercise  be  properly  managed  and  per- 
severed in,  it  will  expand  the  chest  and  give  tone  and  health 
to  the  lungs ;  but  if  it  be  ill-timed  or  carried  to  excess,  it  will 
be  productive  of  injury. 

17.  We  would  say  to  all,  then,  who  desire  health  and 
beauty — for  the  latter  can  never  be  attained  without  the  for- 
mer— take  care  of  your  lungs^  and  give  them  all  that  freedom 
of  action  and  pure  air  which  nature  demands  for  them.  Do 
not  think  you  can  violate  with  impunity  the  laws  which  a 
wise  and  just  Providence  has  established  for  your  well-being. 
"  Let  His  work  be  preserved  in  its  simplicity  and  perfection, 
and  let  not  the  whims  of  folly  or  the  caprice  of  fashion,  by 
distorting  the  shape,  attempt  to  make  improvements  on  the 
masterpiece  of  the  Almighty."* 


1  In-hal'ed,  drawn  into  the  lungs. 

2  €uem'-ic-al,  pertaining  to  chemistry;  a 
more  intimate  union  than  can  be  obtained 
by  mere  mixing. 

3  CoM-Bus'-TiON,  burning ;  the  action  of  fire 
in  consuming  a  body. 

*  StO'-poe,  inaction  ;  dullness. 

5  Vi5N'-Ti-LA-TET>,  exposcd  to  the  action  of 
wind  or  pure  air. 

6  De-ltr'-i-ou8,  insane;  frantic. 
'  Moe'-tal,  violent ;  deadly. 


8  Ap-o-rLEC'-Ti€,  arising  from  apopUxy; 
a  stopping  of  the  functions  of  the  brain. 

9  Con-vEl'-bions,     spasms;     involuntary 
contortions  of  the  muscles. 

10  He€'-ti€,  arising  from  fever. 

11  Pee-€Ck'-80e,  a  forerunner;   that  which 
indicates  the  approach  of  an  event. 

12  Mkd'-i-cis. 

13  In-flat'-ing,  puffing  out  with  air. 

1*  In-8pi-k.a'-tion,  the  act  of  drawing  air 
into  the  lungs. 


*  Deformity  of  the  spine  may  be  caused  or  increased  by  wrong  positions  either  in  sit- 
ting or  in  sleeping.  If  the  body  be  placed  in  a  perfectly  horizontal  position  during  sleep, 
all  pressure  will  be  removed  from  the  cartilage  cushions  between  the  vertebraB  of  the 
spine,  and  thus,  for  seven  or  eight  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  they  will  be  enabled 
gradually  to  return  to  their  natural  form.  Jt  is  found  by  measurement  that,  in  this  way, 
the  spine  is  every  night  lengthened — the  cartilages  recovering,  by  their  elasticity,  a  slight 
increase  of  thickness.     Thus  every  person  is  a  little  taller  in  the  morning  than  at  night. 

I'ut  when  a  person  sleeps  with  a  liigh  pillow,  so  that  the  spine  is  bent  through  the 
night,  this  relieving  process  is  not  allowed  to  certain  portions  of  the  spinal  column. 
Where  delicacy  of  constitution  particularly  aft'ects  the  back,  the  spine  becomes  more  or 
IcBS  distorted  by  this  position.  This  shows  why  children  should  not  be  allowed  high  pil- 
lows, and  why  they  should  be  taught  to  Bleep  on  both  sides,  if  there  is  any  danger  of  their 
bolstering  up  their  heads  too  high. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  69 


LESSON  XYI. 

THE  SKIN.— ITS  COMPLICATED  MECHANISM. 

1.  The  skin  is  a  very  curious  piece  of  meclianism,^  and  it 
performs  many  wonderful  and  important  offices.  The  more 
we  study  it,  the  more  we  shall  find  in  it  to  surprise  us ;  the 
more  to  admire  in  the  wisdom  which  planned  it;  and  the 
more  fully  we  shall  be  convinced  that  the  preservation  of 
health  depends  as  much  upon  the  proper  care  we  take  of  it, 
as  of  the  organs  within  the  body. 

2.  The  skin  is  not  merely  a  thin  covering  for  the  body, 
just  to  keep  it  warm,  or  to  protect  the  parts  from  injury. 
It  is  something  more  than  this.  When  we  examine  it  wo 
find  that  it  is  really  very  complicated"  in  structure,  and  we 
begin  to  wonder  what  can  be  the  object  of  so  curious  a  piece 
of  machinery. 

3.  First,  all  over  the  surface  of  the  body  is  a  very  thin  and 
transparent  layer,  called  the  cuticle^  or  scarf-skin.  It  is,  at 
first,  a  thin  fluid  that  is  poured  out  from  the  blood-vessels  of 
the  skin,  and  which,  spreading  over  the  true  skin,  becomes 
hardened  into  a  thin  layer.  It  is  constantly  forming,  and 
constantly  passing  away.  It  has  neither  nerves  nor  blood- 
vessels, and  is  therefore  without  feeling.  It  is  like  the  outer 
or  rough  bark  of  trees.  On  the  under  side  of  the  cuticle  is  a 
thin  colored  layer,  that  gives  color  to  the  complexion. 

4.  Below  the  cuticle  is  what  is  called  the  true  skin ;  and 
this  is  full  of,  1st,  arteries  and  veins,  or  capillary  blood-ves- 
sels ;  2d,  nerves ;  3d,  lymphatic  vessels ;  4th,  oil-tubes ;  and, 
5th,  perspiratory  tubes.  Let  us  see  if  we  can  understand 
something  of  the  number,  arrangement,  plan,  and  uses  of 
these  vessels ;  for  we  may  be  assured  this  complicated  mech- 
anism was  not  made  in  vain. 

The  Capillaries  of  the  Skin.  —  5.  The  arteries,  bring- 
ing the  blood  from  the  heart,  branch  out  all  over  the  skin  in 
a  net- work  of  minute  fibres ;  and  in  this  net-work,  so  fine  that 
the  eye  can  not  trace  all  its  parts,  the  veins  begin,  and,  gath- 
ering up  the  blood,  carry  it  back  to  the  heart  again.    This  net- 


60  WILLSON  S  FOUETH   READER.  PabT  I. 

Fig.  15.  work  connecting  the  arteries  and  veins,  spread  all 
through  the  true  skin  like  the  smallest  imaginar 
ble  hairs  interlacing  and  crossing  each  other  in 
every  direction,  is  a  part  of  what  is  called  the 
capillary  system.  The  drawing  here  given, 
showing  an  artery  carrying  the  blood  to  the 
capillaries,  and  a  vein  taking  it  back  to  the  heart, 
is  a  magnified  view  of  what,  in  reality,  is  not  so 
large  as  a  pin-head. 
6.  But  these  capillary  blood-vessels  are  not  only  spread 
over  the  skin,  but  also  over  and  through  every  muscle,  and 
bone,  and  nerve,  and  to  every  part  of  the  body  that  requires 
nourishment.  By  the  blood  coming  from  the  arteries  every 
part  is  thus  nourished ;  and  by  the  veins  the  waste  particles 
are  carried  away  to  be  thrown  out  of  the  system.  So  nu- 
merous are  these  capillary  vessels  in  the  skin,  that  if  the  skin 
be  punctured*  by  the  finest  needle,  some  of  them  will  be 
broken  by  it. 

Nerves  of  the  Skin. — 7.  All  the  veins,  and  arteries,  and 
capillaries,  are  so  <)overed  w  ith  a  net-work  of  nerves,  that  no 
part  of  the  skin  can  be  punctured  without  piercing  a  nerve, 
and  causing  pain.  But,  although  the  skin  is  the  organ  of 
touch,  and  every  where  capable  of  exciting  feeling,  yet  the 
nerves,  by  which  we  feel,  do  not  come  quite  to  the  surface. 
They  are  all  covered  by  the  outer  layer,  or  cuticle^  which  we 
have  described. 

8.  When  the  cuticle  is  taken  ofi",  the  true  skin  is  found  to 
be  covered  with  little  erect  cones,  called  pa-pil'-loe^  which, 
however,  can  scarcely  be  seen  by  the  naked  eye.  Each  one 
of  these  pa-piV-lce  penetrates  nearly  through  the  cuticle ;  and 
each  one,  although  so  small  that  we  can  scarcely  see  it,  con- 
tains a  loop  of  blood-vessels  and  a  twig  of  a  nerve ;  and  these 

Fig.  16.  Fig.  16  shows  some  of  the  pa-pU'-lat  from  the  palm 

of  the  hand,  greatly  magnified.  They  are  ahout  the 
one  hundredth  part  of  an  inch  in  height ;  hut  it  would 
talce  250  of  them,  placed  side  by  side,  to  make  an  inch  in 
diameter.  • 

The  pa-p'il'-lce  are  numerous  wherever  the. sense  of 
touch  is  very  acute  —  that  is,  wherever  they  are  most 
L     \y~       ■.'-%r'>'V^  -v/si<       '    noeded,  as  at  the  ends  of  the  iingcr.s,  and  the  tip  of  the 
y^>y^f  'V^^^'I^SvKS^    tongue.     They  arc  numerous  in  the  tip  of  the  snout  of 

"'•■^^^'^''"^ the  mole,  at  the  end  of  the  elephant's  trunk,  and  at  the 

root  of  the  whiskers,  or  feelers^  of  the  cat. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   AND    HEALTH.  61 

nerves  enable  us  to  feel  any  thing  that  we  touch.  These 
little  pa-pil'-lce,  filled  with  nerves,  are  Uke  sentinels  every 
where  on  duty,  and  they  instantly  send  news  to  the  brain 
when  a  part  has  been  injured.  In  the  tender  and  delicate 
parts  of  the  system,  which  require  the  most  care  and  protec- 
tion, like  the  eye  and  the  lungs,  they  are  the  most  numerous. 
If  a  particle  of  dust  lodges  on  the  eyeball,  hoAV  quickly  do 
the  nerves  in  the  pa-pU'-lce  send  notice  to  the  brain,  that  it 
may  be  removed !     (See  Fig.  16.) 

Lymphatics. — 9.  In  addition  to  the  capillary  blood-vessels 
and  the  nerves,  the  skin  contains  a  system  of  tubular^  vessels 
called  lym-phat' -ics^  or  absorbents,  which  are  so  small  that 
they  can  not  be  seen  by  the  naked  eye.  The  lymphatics  open 
outwardly  on  the  under  surface  of  the  cuticle  or  scarf-skin, 
while  inwardly  they  open  into  the  veins.  Is  it  possible  that 
these  little  vessels  are  of  any  use  ?  Yes ;  and  it  is  very  cer- 
tain that  they  have  not  been  made  in  vain. 

10.  There  is  one  thing,  at  least,  which  they  are  able  to  do. 
The  mouths,  or  outward  openings  of  the  absorbents,  are  so 
exposed  that  substances  placed  upon  the  skin  are  taken  up 
by  them,  carried  along  their  little  tubes,  and  emptied  into  the 
veins,  whence  they  are  carried  to  that  gifeat  working  engine, 
the  heart,  and  then  sent  all  over  the  system.  It  is  very  evi- 
dent that  if  the  substances  thus  absorbed  by  the  lymphatics 
are  good  and  useful  to  the  system,  they  may  benefit  the  whole 
body ;  but,  if  they  are  bad,  they  may  do  it  a  great  amount 
of  injury. 

11.  If  the  arm  should  be  dipped  in  poison,  what,  prob- 
ably, would  be  the  result  ?  The  lymphatics  would  doubtless 
absorb  the  poison,  and  empty  it  into  the  vems,  and  the  veins 
would  carry  it  to  the  heart,  and  the  heart  would  carry  it  to 
every  part  of  the  body,  to  every  muscle,  and  bone,  and  sin- 
ew, and  nerve,  poisoning  all ;  and  death  might  be  the  result. 
Such  cases  have  often  happened. 

12.  The  writer  of  this  knew  a  person  who,  having  washed 
a  number  of  sheep  in  a  decoction^  of  tobacco  to  kill  the  ver- 
min on  them,  was  so  poisoned  by  the  juice  of  the  tobacco 
that  was  taken  up  by  the  lymphatics  of  the  hands  and  arms, 
and  carried  into  the  blood,  that  he  was  made  sick,  and  con- 


WILLSON'S   FOTJKTH   EEADER. 


Part  I. 


fined  to  his  bed  for  three  months.  In  another  case,  several 
children  in  a  family  were  actually  killed  by  putting  on  their 
hands  and  arms  a  poisonous  ointment  by  mistake.  It  is  by 
the  lymphatics  that  the  poison  from  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog, 
or  a  serpent,  is  carried  into  the  system. 

13.  Physicians  sometimes  make  use  of  the  lymphatics  to  a 
very  good  purpose.  In  the  process  of  vaccination, "^  by  which 
multitudes  of  lives  are  saved  annually,  a  small  particle  of 
matter,  placed  under  the  outer  skin,  and  being  soon  absorb- 
ed, affects  the  whole  system,  and  protects  it  from  the  ravages 
of  that  terrible  disease,  the  small-pox.  Sometimes,  when  the 
stomach  rejects  a  medicine,  physicians  give  it  by  binding  a 
quantity  on  the  arm,  after  first  removing  the  outer  skin  by  a 
blister.  It  is  also  stated  that  persons  have  been  fed  through 
the  skin,  and  kept  alive  for  a  long  time  by  the  absorption  of 
nutritious  substances.* 

Oil-tubes. — 14.  We  have  also  said  that  the  skin  is  full  of 
oil-tubes.  These  draw  oil  from  the  blood,  and  spread  it  over 
the  outer  skin  to  keep  the  latter  moist.  In  some  parts  of  the 
body  they  are  very  abundant.  Their  little  openings  may  be 
seen  along  the  edges  of  the  eyelids.  The  oil  which  they 
pour  out  there  keeps  the  tears  and  moisture  of  the  eyes  with- 
in the  lids,  and  also  prevents  that  adhesion^  of  the  lids  which 
occurs  upon  slight  inflammation.  These  oil-tubes  are  also 
abundant  on  the  head,  where  they  supply  the  hair  with  a  po- 
matum^ of  Nature's  own  preparing. 


1  MEcn'-AN-ifM,  machine  work ;  tho  parts 
of  a  machine. 

2  €om'-pli-€a-ted,  intricate;  composed  of 
many  parts  united. 

3  €C'-Ti-ei.B,  the  outer  or  scarf  skin. 
♦  Pun€'-tCrkd,  pierced. 

5  TO'-Btj-LAB,  having  the  form  of  a  tube. 


6  De-c5g'-tion,  the  liquor  in  which  any 
thing  has  been  boiled  or  steeped. 

■J  Vac-cin-a'-tion,  the  act  of  inoculating,  or 
applying  the  vaccine  matter  to  the  skin, 

8  Ad-he'-»ion,  sticking  together. 

9  Po-ma'-tcm,  a  perfumed  ointment. 


•  "  A  person  who  has  abstained  from  water  will,  after  he  has  immersed  his  body  in  a 
bath,  not  only  find  his  weight  increased,  but  the  sensation  of  thirst  abated." — Deapbb. 


1st  DiV.  OF 


HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH. 


63 


LESSON  XYII. 
GROWTH  AND  DECAY— LIFE  AND  DEATH. 

1.  The  most  curious  part  of  the  skin  is  the  numerous  and 
minute  Perspiration-tubes  which  it  contains.  These  tubes 
open  on  the  cuticle,  and  the  openings  are  called  pores  of  the 
skin.  They  descend  into  the  true  skin,  where  they  form  a 
coil,  as  seen  in  the  drawing  below.  Small  as  are  these  tubes, 
they  are  lined  on  their  inner  surface  with  branches  of  the  mi- 
nute capillary  blood-vessels,  which  we  have  described,  and 
which  are  filled  with  the  impure  venous  blood  that  is  on  its 
way  back  to  the  heart  and  lungs. 

2.  But  what  can  be  the  object  of  all  this  complicated  ar- 
rangement ?  Why  are  these  little  perspiration-tubes,  as  they 
are  called,  scattered  thick  all  over  the  body — so  thick,  indeed, 
that  thirty -five  hundred  of  their  little  mouths  have  been  count- 
ed on  one  square  inch  of  the  hand  ?  What  office  have  they 
to  perform  that  is  not  performed  by  the  capillaries,  or  the 
nerves,  or  the  lymphatics,  or  the  oil-tubes  ?  Does  there  seem 
to  be  any  necessity  for  them  ?    Let  us  see. 


Fig.  17  is  a  representa- 
tion of  one  of  the  perspira- 
tion-tubes, or  su-dor-ip'-a- 
rous  glands,  from  the  palm 
of  the  hand.  The  space 
from  d  to  b  represents  a 
greatly  magnified  view  of 
the  thickness  of  the  skin. 
The  upper  portion  is  the 
cuticle,  the  dark  portion 
the  colored  layer,  and  the 
lower  portion  the  true  skin. 
The  coil  at  the  bottom,  cf, 
a,  is  imbedded  in  the  sur- 
rounding fat,  c,  c.  The 
tube  opens  on  the  surface 
of  the  skin,  in  a  slight  de- 
pression of  the  cuticle,  at  d. 

Fig.  18  is  a  greatly  mag- 
nified view  of  the  surface 
of  the  skin  of  the  palm  of 
the  hand.  The  dark  lines 
are  the  furrows  ;  the  light- 
er portions  are  the  ridges, 
in  which  are  seen  the  dark 
circular  openings  of  the 
perspiration  -  tubes.  Be- 
neath these  ridges  are  also 
the  points  of  the  pa-piV- 
Ice,  which  we  have  de- 
Bcribed. 


Fig.  18. 


6i  WILLSOn's  FOUETH  EEADER.  Part  I. 

3.  We  have  seen  that  the  arterial  blood-vessels  cany  nour- 
ishanent  from  the  heart  to  all  parts  of  the  system,  and  that, 
after  the  blood  has  performed  this  part  of  its  duty,  it  gath- 
ers np,  in  the  minute  capillaries,  the  waste  and  worn-out  par- 
ticles of  the  body,  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  them  away. 
Most  of  the  refuse  particles,  which  consist  of  carbon,  unit- 
ing in  the  capillaries  with  the  oxygen  which  the  blood  re- 
ceived on  its  passage  through  the  lungs,  and  forming,  by  this 
union,  carbonic  acid  gas,  are  carried  to  the  lungs,  and  there 
separated  from  the  blood,  and  breathed  out  into  the  air 
through  the  mouth  and  nostrils,  in  the  form  of  carbonic  acid 
gas  and  vapor. 

4.  But  the  perspiration-tubes  also  are  all  the  time  busy  in 
performing  the  same  kind  of  labor  as  the  lungs,  in  purifying 
the  blood.  As  these  tubes,  opening  into  the  air,  are  lined 
with  the  capillary  blood-vessels,  the  air  which  they  contain 
is  brought  in  close  contact  with  the  blood,  just  as  the  air  is 
brought  in  close  contact  with  the  blood  in  the  lungs;  and 
waste  and  worn-out  particles  of  the  body,  in  the  form  of  wa- 
ter, soda,  potash,  iron,  oil,  salts,  and  acids,  and  carbonic  acid 
gas,  are  poured  out  into  the  perspiration-tubes,  and  by  them 
carried  to  the  surface  of  the  body,  and  thrown  out  through 
the  pores  of  the  skin. 

5.  These  numerous  tubes  are  therefore  constantly  perform- 
ing the  process  which  we  Cjill  pers2nration.  When  we  siceat 
freely  they  are  very  active,  and  perform  a  vast  amount  of  la- 
bor. Each  one  of  these  tubes  is  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in 
length,  including  its  coils;  seventy-three  feet  of  this  tubing  in 
one  square  inch  of  the  skin,  or  twenty-eight  miles  of  it  spread 
over  the  body  of  a  common  sized  man ! 

6.  A  wonderful  apparatus,^  indeed !  but  not  more  wonder- 
ful than  the  amount  and  importance  of  the  labor  which  it  per- 
forms; for  it  is  calculated  that  these  little  tubes  carry  off 
daily,  through  the  skin  of  a  full-grown  active  man,  not  less 
than  two  or  three  pounds  of  waste  matter!  These  little 
workers  are  all  the  time  engaged  in  this  labor ;  and  the  blood 
from  the  arteries  is  just  as  busy  in  supplying  the  vacant  places 
with  new  material !  Thus  physiologists  tell  me  that  my  body 
— this  house  which  I  live  in — is  constantly  being  pulled  down 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY   A1^T>    HEALTH. 


65 


and  undergoing  repairs,  and  that  there  is  not  a  particle  of  it 
which  is  the  same  now  that  it  was  ten  years  ago ! 

7.  Thus  we  are  dying  every  hour,  nay,  every  instant ;  and 
the  only  difference  between  this  death  and  that  which  occurs 
at  the  end  of  life  (so  far  as  regards  the  body)  is,  that  in  this 
gr^ual  death  the  place  of  every  dead  particle  is  instantly 
supplied  by  a  living  one,  while  in  the  other  case  all  the  parts 
of  the  body  perish  together,  and  are  not  reproduced.  In 
youth  the  building  up  process  goes  on  more  actively  than 
the  pulling  down  process ;  in  middle  life  the  two  powers  are 
equal ;  but  in  old  age  the  pulling  down  process  gains  the  as- 
cendency,2  and  the  house  we  live  in  gradually  falls  to  decay. 

8.  How  strange  it  seems  that  ten  years  ago  you  had  one 
body,  and  that  now  you  have  another !  You  can,  indeed,  see, 
hear,  and  taste  as  you  could  before ;  but  the  eye  with  which 
you  see  is  not  the  same  as  the  one  you  had  ten  years  ago :  it 
is  a  new  eye ;  and  you  hear  with  a  different  ear,  and  taste 
with  another  tongue.  Indeed,  the  eye  of  to-day  is  not  the 
same  as  that  of  yesterday ;  for  a  part  of  the  eye  of  yesterday 
has  passed  away,  while  the  deficiency  thus  produced  has  been 
supplied  by  a  part  of  yesterday's  dinner !  But  the  mmd — 
the  thinking  power  or  principle  of  yesterday  and  of  ten  years 
ago — that  is  w^ithin  you  still.  Through  all  the  changes  and 
the  mamj  deaths  of  the  body,  the  mind— the  soul — still  lives. 

9.  "  The  purple  stream  that  through  my  vessels  glides, 

Dull  and  unconscious  flows  like  common  tides : 
The  pipes  through  which  the  circling  juices  stray, 
Are  not  that  thinking  I,  no  more  than  they : 
This  frame  compacted,  ^  with  transcendent*  skill, 
Of  moving  joints  obedient  to  my  will, 
Nursed  from  the  glebe,  ^  like  yonder  tree 
Waxes  and  wastes  ;^  I  call  it  mine\  not  me' : 
New  matter  still  the  mouldering''  mass  sustains, 
The  mansion  changed,  the  tenant  still  remains ; 
And  from  the  fleeting  stream,  repaired  by  food, 
Distinct  as  is  the  swimmer  from  the  flood." 

Arbijthnot. 


1  Ap-pa-ra'-ttts,  a  complete  set  of  instru- 
ments for  performing  any  o]5eration. 

2  As-oend'-en-cy,  controlling  influence ;  su- 
periority. 

3  €om-pa«t'-ed,  constructed;  made  dense 
and  firm. 


*  Trans-cknd'-ent,  very  excellent. 

5  Glebe,  soil ;  land. 

6  "Waxes  and  Wastes,"  grows  and  de* 
cays. 

'  MOuLD'-EE-rNG,  decaying. 


Paet  I. 


LESSOK  XYIII. 
ABUSES  OF  THE  SKIN. 

1.  But  what  if  those  busy  workers,  the  perspiration-ti4)es 
of  which  we  have  spoken,  should  stop  laboring  for  only  one 
day^  ?  What  if  they  should.refuse  to  do  the  work  which  has 
been  assigned  to  them^  ?  Would  any  injury  be  done'  ?  Yes, 
a  vast  amount  of  injury.  The  waste  particles  of  matter, 
when  they  are  not  permitted  to  escape  through  the  pores  of 
the  skin,  clog  up  the  system,  and  irritate  and  poison  it,  so  as 
to  produce  inflammation  or  fever.  Only  think  of  two  or  three 
pounds  of  waste  and  poisonous  matter,  that  ought  to  be  thrown 
away,  collecting  in  the  body  in  so  short  a  time,  merely  be- 
cause these  little  tubes  are  unable  to  do  their  work !  If  the 
difiiculty  should  continue  several  days,  and  no  remedy  be 
found,  not  only  disease,  but  death  itself  would  be  the  result. 

2.  These  perspiration-tubes  are  sometimes  closed  when  a 
person  takes  a  severe  cold ;  for  the  cold,  after  deadening  their 
action,  contracts  them,  and  closes  the  little  pores  which  open 
on  the  skin.  And  now  see  how  nature  tries  to  remedy  the 
evil.  As  the  waste  matter  can  not  escape  through  these 
openings,  it  remains  in  the  veins,  but  it  clogs  the  current  of 
the  blood,  and  makes  it  a  dark  and  filthy  stream.  This  stream, 
with  all  its  impurities,  soon  finds  its  way  to  the  heart,  and 
the  heart  sends  it  to  the  lungs  to  be  cleansed. 

3.  But  now  the  lungs  have  more  work  to  do  than  usual, 
and,  after  toiling  awhile  with  all  their  might  to  remove  the 
impurities  of  the  blood,  they  become  weary ;  they  themselves 
become  clogged  with  the  waste  matter  w^ich  they  have  sepa- 
rated from  the  blood ;  they  make  a  vain  eflbrt,  by  coughing, 
to  remove  it,  and  then  a  fever  sets  in.  There  is  now  a  fever 
all  over  the  skin,  and  a  fever  in  the  lungs  also,  and  all  because 
the  httle  pores  of  the  skin  stopped  work  for  a  while.  The 
lungs  did  all  they  could  to  remove  the  evil,  but  the  addition- 
al labor  imposed  upon  them  soon  made  them  sick  also. 

4.  We  can  scarcely  imagine  the  amount  of  suflering  caused 
by  the  closing  up  of  these  little  pores — these  millions  of  little 


1st  DiV.  OP  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  67 

breathi7ig  holes  that  are  scattered  all  over  the  body.  Clos- 
iog  them  is  like  closing  the  mouth  and  nostrils,  and  shutting 
out  the  air  we  breathe.  It  is  vastly  important,  then,  that  we 
should  know  what  dangers  we  are  liable  to  from  this  source, 
and  how  we  may  avoid  them. 

5.  A  healthy  action  of  the  skin  will  be  found  to  depend 
upon  proper  attention  to  clothing,  cleanliness,  exercise,  light, 
and  air.  The  importance  oipure  air  is  seen  in  the  fact  that 
the  functions^  of  the  skin  in  purifying  the  blood  are  similar  to 
those  of  the  lungs.  Light  is  as  essential  to  an  animal  as  to  a 
plant.  Plants  that  grow  in  the  shade  are  never  so  strong 
and  vigorous,  nor  have  they  so  dark  and  brilliant  colors,  as 
those  that  grow  in  the  sunshine ;  and  a  child  that  grows  up 
in  a  dark  cellar,  or  any  dark  room,  will  always  have  a  pale 
and  unhealthy  countenance. 

6.  Although  the  skin  requires  a  suitable  degree  of  warmth, 
of  which  each  person  must  be  the  judge  in  his  own  case,  yet 
that  kind  of  clothing  should  be  used  which  is  best  adapted  to 
protect  the  body  from  the  effects  of  sudden  changes  of  tem- 
perature.2  For  this  purpose  woolen  and  cotton  garments, 
fittmg  loosely,  are  to  be  preferred  to  linen,  as  the  latter  ab- 
sorbs and  retains  moisture,  and  thereby  rapidly  conducts  the 
heat  from  the  body. 

Y.  Any  clothing  of  close  texture^  that  excludes  air  from  the 
body,  and  thereby  prevents  the  perspiration  from  passing  off 
freely,  is  injurious ;  for  if  the  poisonous  matter  be  left  in  con- 
tact Avith  the  skin,  it  will  be  likely  to  be  absorbed  into  the 
system  by  the  lymphatics.  Cover  the  body  with  varnish,  so 
as  to  close  the  pores  of  the  skin,  and  a  feeling  of  suffocation 
will  immediately  be  felt,  a  fever  will  set  in,  and  the  individual 
will  soon  die.  India-rubber  clothing  that  excludes  the  air 
will  always  produce  injurious  effects.  The  advantages  of  fre- 
quent ablutions*  of  the  whole  body,  and  of  frequent  changes 
of  clothing,  arise  from  the  importance  not  only  of  keeping  the 
pores  of  the  skin  open  and  in  healthy  action,  but  also  of  pre- 
venting the  absorption  of  the  poisonous  matter  which  has 
once  been  excluded  by  them. 

8.  But  exercise  in  pure  air  is  no  Jess  essential  to  the  health 
of  the  skin  than  to  other  portions  of  the  body.     The  capil- 


68  WILLSON's  FOUETH  READEB.  Part  I. 

laries  of  the  skin  depend  for  their  vigorous  action  upon  bodi- 
ly exercise ;  the  warmth  of  the  skin,  and  the  resistance  which 
it  offers  to  sudden  changes  of  temperature,  also  depend  upon 
that  rapid  waste  and  repair  of  the  system,  of  which  exercise 
is  the  immediate  cause.  And,  finally,  as  a  summary^  of  all 
that  may  be  said  upon  the  subject  of  bodily  health,  its  funda- 
mental^ rules  may  be  embraced  in  three  words — Temperance, 
Cleanliness,  and  Exercise. 

1  FuN€'-TiONs,    offices  ;    duties  ;    employ-  *  Ab-lu'-tions,  washings, 


ments. 
2  T£m'-pee-a-tlee  (tem'-per-a-tyiire)^  state 

of  the  air  with  regard  to  heat  or  cold, 
s  Text-Cee  (Jteksf -yur) ^  the  arrangement  or 

disposition  of  ihe  threads  woven  together. 


Sum'-ma-ry,  a  brief  or  abridged  statement 
of  a  fuller  account. 
6  Ffn-da-ment'-ai,,  most  important ;  serv- 
ing for  the  foundation. 


LESSON  XIX. 

THE  YEARS  OF  MAN'S  LIFE. 

1.  The  first  seve7i  years  of  life — man's  break  of  day — 
Gleams  of  short  sense,  a  dawn  of  thought  display ; 
When  fourteen  springs  have  bloomed  his  downy  cheek, 
His  soft  and  bashful  meanings  learn  to  speak. 

2.  From  twenty-one  proud  manhood  takes  its  date, 
Yet  is  not  strength  complete  till  twenty-eight ; 
Thence  to  his  five-and-thirtieth,  life's  gay  fire 
Sparkles  and  burns  intense  in  fierce  desire. 

3.  Kt  forty -two  his  eyes  grave  wisdom  wear, 
And  the  dark  future  dims  him  o'er  with  care ; 
y^xXh  forty-nine  behold  his  toils  increase. 
And  busy  hopes  and  fears  disturb  his  peace. 

4.  A% fifty-six  cool  reason  reigns  entire; 

Then  life  bums  steady,  and  with  temperate  fire ; 
But  sixty-three  unbends  the  body's  strength, 
Ere  the  unwearied  mind  has  run  her  length  ; 
And  when,  at  seventy^  age  looks  her  last, 
Tir'd  she  stops  short,  and  wishes  all  were  past. 


1st  Div.  OF  .  .  .  HtIMA:Kr  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  69 


lesso:n^  XX. 

HEALTH.— A  LETTER  TO  MOTHERS. 

MRS.  SIGOURNET. 

1.  Mothers',  is  there  any  thing  we  can  do  to  acquire  for 
our  daughters  a  good  constitution'?  Is  there  truth  in  the 
sentiment  sometimes  repeated,  that  our  sex  is  becoming  more 
and  more  effeminate'  ?^  Are  we  as  capable  of  enduring  hard- 
ship as  our  grandmothers  were'  ?  Are  we  as  well  versed  in 
the  details  of  housekeeping',  as  able  to  bear  them  without 
fatigue',  as  our  mothers  were'  ?  Have  our  daughters  as  much 
stamina^  of  constitution',  as  much  aptitude^  for  domestic  du- 
ties as  we  ourselves  possess'?  These  questions  are  not  in- 
teresting to  us  simply  as  individuals.  They  affect  the  wel- 
fare of  the  community.  For  the  ability  or  inability  of  wom- 
an to  discharge  what  the  Almighty  has  committed  to  her, 
touches  the  equilibrium'^  of  society,  and  the  hidden  springs  of 
existence. 

2.  Outlines  of  the  mysterious  mechanism  of  our  clay-temple 
we  ought  certainly  to  study,  that  we  need  not,  through  igno- 
rance, interfere  with  those  laws  on  which  its  organization*  de- 
pends. Rendered  precious  by  being  the  shrine^  of  an  undy- 
ing spirit,  our  ministrations''  for  its  welfare  assume  an  almost 
fearful  importance.  Appointed,  as  the  mother  is,  to  guard 
the  harmony  of  its  architecture,  to  study  the  arts  on  which 
its  symmetry  depends,  she  is  forced  to  perceive  how  much 
the  mind  is  affected  by  the  circumstances  of  its  lodgment, 
and  is  incited  to  cherish  the  mortal  for  the  sake  of  the  im- 
mortal. 

3.  Does  she  attach  value  to  the  gems  of  intellect'  ?  Let 
her  see  that  the  casket  which  contains  them  be  not  lightly 
endangered  or  carelessly  broken\  Does  she  pray  for  the 
welfare  of  the  soul'  ?  Let  her  seek  the  good  of  its  compan- 
ion, who  walks  with  it  to  the  gate  of  the  grave,  and  rushes 
again  to  its  embrace  on  the  morning  of  the  resurrection\ 

4.  Fashion  seems  long  enough  to  have  attacked  health  in 
its  strong-holds.     She  can  not  even  prove  that  she  has  ren- 


70  WILLSOn's  fourth  reader.  Part  I. 

dered  the  form  more  graceful,  as  some  equivalent  for  her  rav- 
ages. In  ancient  Greece,  to  which  our  painters  and  sculptors 
still  look  for  the  purest  models,  was  not  the  form  left  untutor- 
ed' ?^  the  volume  of  the  lungs  allowed  free  play'  ?  the  heart 
permitted,  without  manacles,  to  do  the  great  work  which  the 
Creator  assigned  it'  ? 

5.  Let  us  educate  a  race  who  shall  have  room  to  breathe. 
Let  us  promise,  even  in  their  cradle,  that  their  hearts  shall 
not  be  pinioned  as  in  a  vice,  nor  their  spines  bent  like  a  bow, 
nor  their  ribs  forced  into  the  liver.  Doubtless  the  husbands 
and  fathers  of  the  next  generation  w^ill  give  us  thanks. 

6.  Yet,  if  we  would  engage  in  so  formidable  a  work,  we 
must  not  wait  until  morbid  habits  have  gathered  strength. 
Our  labor  must  be  among  the  elements  of  character.  We 
must  teach  in  the  nursery  that  "  the  body  is  the  temple  of  the 
Holy  Ghost."  We  must  leave  no  place  in  the  minds  of  our 
little  ones  for  the  lunatic^  sentiment,  that  the  mind's  health- 
ful action,  and  the  integrity^^  of  the  organs  on  which  it  oper- 
ates, are  secondary  to  the  vanities  of  external  decoration.  If 
they  have  received  from  their  Creator  a  sound  mind  and  a 
sound  body,  convince  them  that  they  are  accountable  for 
both.  If  they  deliberately  permit  injury  to  either,  how  s*hall 
they  answer  for  it  before  their  Judge  ? 

7.  And  how  shall  the  mother  ansicer  it,  in  whose  hand  the 
soul  of  her  child  was  laid,  as  a  waxen  tablet,  if  she  suffer  Fash- 
ion to  cover  it  with  fantastic^^  images,  and  Folly  to  puff  out 
her  feverish  breath,  melting  the  lines  that  Wisdom  penciled 
there,  till  what  Heaven  Avould  fain  have  polished  for  itself, 
loses  the  fair  impression,  and  becomes  like  common  earth  ? 


1  Ef-fem'-in-ate,  weak;  tender;  delicate; 

nnhealthy. 
a  Stam'-i-na,  strength  ;  solidity. 
3  ArT'-i-TLDE,  fitness  ;  suitableness. 
*  E-Qui-T.Tn'-Bi-uM,  a  just  balancing;  due 

regulation. 
6  Ob-gan-i-za'-tion,  proper  arrangement  of 

all  its  parts. 
6  ShrTne,  abode ;  temple ;  case  or  box  in 

which  any  thing  sacred  is  kept. 


7  Min-is-tra'-tionji,  our  services  or  efforts 
as  subordinate  agents. 

8  Un-tu'-tob-kp,  to  grow  naturally;   un- 
taught. 

9  Ltj'-NA-Ti€,  crazy;  insane. 

10  In-teg'-ki-ty,  soundness ;   healthful  ac- 
tion. 

11  Fan-tas'-tic, foolishly  odd;  uncouth;  un- 
natural. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY    AND    HEALTH.  71 


LESSON  XXI. 
EEST  AND  SLEEP. 

HODGKIN. 

1.  We  have  noticed  the  effect  of  exercise  upon  the  mus- 
cular system ;  and  we  have  seen  that  it  is  essential  to  the 
growth  and  healthy  action  of  the  body.  We  have  seen  that 
a  period  of  rest  is  necessary  for  a  fatigued  muscle  to  recover 
itself;  and  we  have  also  found  that  if  the  rest  be  too  long 
continued,  the  muscle  will  be  enfeebled  thereby. 

2.  But  rest  has  to  be  considered  not  merely  with  reference 
to  its  power  of  restoring  the  energies^  of  the  muscular  sys- 
tem ;  it  has  an  important  influence  on  digestion,  and  also  on 
the  strength  and  activity  of  the  mind.  Moreover,  the  prop- 
er and  economical  employment  of  that  most  invaluable  pos- 
session, ti7ne^  depends  very  much  upon  the  due  limitation^ 
and  arrangement  of  our  hours  of  repose. 

3.  There  are,  properly  speaking,  but  two  degrees  of  re- 
pose. The  one  is  that  in  which  all  bodily  exercise  is  wholly, 
or  to  a  great  degree,  suspended ;  while  the  mind  still  retains 
its  consciousness,^  but  is  not  employed  on  any  subject  calcu- 
lated to  fatigue  or  disturb  it.  The  other,  well  known  by  the 
name  of  sleep,  is  that  in  which  not  only  bodily  exercise  is 
suspended,  but  the  operations  of  the  mind  also  are  stopped. 
Even  dreams  are  an  imperfection  in  sleep,  and  show  that 
mental  repose  is  not  complete. 

4.  Although  rest  and  sleep — the  two  degrees  of  repose  to 
which  we  have  alluded — give  relief  to  the  exhausted  system, 
they  are  far  from  being  precisely  similar  in  their  effects,  nor 
can  one  be  indifferently  substituted  for  the  other.  Every  one 
must  be  aware  that  when  the  body  and  mind  are  exhausted 
by  long-continued  wakefulness  and  exertion,  a  short  period 
of  sleep  has  a  much  greater  restorative*  effect  than  complete 
tranquillity  of  body  and  mind  without  it.  Who  has  not  felt 
the  force  of  the  poet's  expression, 

"Nature's  sweet  restorer — balmy  sleep." 

5.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  times  when  rest  is  neces- 


72  WILLSON'S   FOUETH    READEE.  Pakt  I. 

sary,  but  when  sleep  is  undesirable.  The  first  part  of  the 
process  of  digestion  does  not  go  on  so  well  during  sleep  as 
when  the  body  is  in  a  state  of  wakeful  repose ;  and  the  mind, 
provided  it  has  not  been  exhausted  by  long-continued  appli- 
cation, is  better  fitted  for  some  occupations  after  wakeful  re- 
laxation^ than  after  sleep. 

6.  What  portion  of  time,  and  what  part  of  the  day  should 
be  devoted  to  sleep,  are  subjects  of  considerable  importance ; 
yet  it  will  not  answer  to  lay  down  a  definite  rule  for  all  per- 
sons. Some  individuals  are  so  very  active  in  their  habits  and 
dispositions,  that  a  comj)aratively  small  portion  of  sleep  is 
not  only  all  which  they  require,  but  all  which  they  can  take ;  * 
while  others  can  give  way  to  it  at  any  time. 

7.  Both  of  these  extremes  are  undesirable;  but  they  may, 
happily,  be  very  much  corrected  by  careful  attention  to  the 
formation  of  habit.  Those  who  possess  extreme  activity  of 
mind  or  body,  and  greatly  curtail  the  rest  required  by  both, 
can  not  fail  seriously  to  injure  their  health.  If  they  do  not 
bring  on  some  disease  under  which  their  exhausted  frames 
sink  after  a  short  struggle,  they  become  almost  inevitably  the 
victims  of  preanature  old  age,  decrepitude,^  and  death. 

8.  On  the  other  hand,  those  who  give  way  to  slothfulness,"' 
and  devote  an  inordinate^  time  to  rest  and  sleep,  have  their 
energies  destroyed ;  their  bodies  become  flabby,  bloated,  and 
easily  fatigued ;  and  their  minds,  even  in  their  most  wakeful 
moments,  are  torpid,  indisposed  for  continued  attention  to 
any  subject,  and  unfit  for  close  application.  Such  persons 
may  be  said  to  waste  life  in  a  threefold  manner.  First,  all 
the  time  consumed  in  rest  and  sleep,  beyond  what  the  body 
and  mind  require,  is  lost ;  a  second  portion  is  lost  in  the  di- 
minished value  of  their  waking  hours ;  and,  thirdly,  the  term 
of  their  life  is  likely  to  be  shortened  by  the  injury  which 
their  health  sustains. 

9.  There  is  considerable  difierence  in  the  amount  of  sleep 
required  at  difierent  ages.  Children,  who  have  little  power 
and  much  activity,  are  the  soonest  fatigued,  and  require  the 
most  rest.  In  old  age  there  is  generally  the  smallest  necessi- 
ty for  sleep ;  yet  exceptions  to  this  are  seen  in  the  decrepi- 
tude of  extreme  old  age,  and  in  cases  in  which,  in  conse- 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN  PHYSIOLOGY   AND   HEALTH.  73 

quence  of  disease,  there  is  great  tendency  to  sleep.  In  the 
prime  of  life,  when  the  system  is  capable  of  making  the  great- 
est exertions,  a  medium  portion  of  rest  is  required  to  restore 
the  body,  after  exhaustion  by  fatigue ;  but  even  at  this  period 
of  Hfe,  the  differences  depending  on  constitution  and  habit 
are  very  considerable. 

lu.  From  six  to  seven  hours  may  be  regarded  as  the  aver- 
age amount  of  time  which  those  engaged  in  the  ordinary 
concerns  of  life,  and  reasonably  exercising  both  body  and 
mind,  may  devote  to  rest  in  bed.  Some  persons  have  been 
able  to  do  with  from  four  to  five  hours ;  but  in  most  of  these 
cases  the  mind  was  kept  in  a  state  of  excitement  by  a  suc- 
cession of  momentous^  or  intensely  interesting  subjects; 
hence  instances  of  this  kind  are  met  with  among  severe  stu- 
dents, military  commanders,  and  persons  engaged  in  pohtical 
affairs.  Health  is  generally  injured  and  life  shortened  by  a 
continuance  of  this  habit.  There  are  very  few  cases,  except- 
ing among  persons  with  impaired  health,  in  which  the  limit 
of  six  or  seven  hours  need  be  exceeded. 

11.  The  following  distribution  of  time  has  been  prescribed 
by  some  superior  individuals  who  were  well  acquainted  with 
its  value.  Lord  Chief  Justice  Coke,  of  England,  laid  down 
a  rule  for  himself  in  the  following  couplet : 

"  Six  hours  in  sleep ;  in  law's  grave  study  six ; 
Four  spend  in  prayer ;  the  rest  on  Nature  fix." 

This  rule  was  somewhat  modified  by  that  excellent  man  and 
accomplished  scholar,  Sir  William  Jones  : 

"Six  hours  to  law ;  to  soothing  slumber  seven ; 
Ten  to  the  world  allot — and  all  to  Heaven." 


'  1>;n'-eb-(Jies,  internal  strength  and  activ- 
ity. 

2  Lim-it-a'-ti ON,  restriction  ;  the  act  of  lim- 
iting. 

3  €6n'-scious-nes8,    knowledge    of    what 
passes  in  one's  own  mind. 

*  Ke-stor'-a-tIve,  power  to  renew  strength 
and  vigor. 


5  Re-lax-.\'-tion,  a  loosening  or  slackening 
of  the  energies. 

6  De-€ekp'-it-Cde,  that  broken  and  infirm 
state  of  the  body  produced  by  old  age. 

■^  Slotii'-ful-ness,  the  habit  of  idleness; 
inactivity. 

8  In-6r-din-ate,  excessive;  immoderate. 

9  ]\Io-mknt'-ou8,  highly  important. 

D 


T4  willson's  foukth  reader.  Part  I. 


LESSON  XXII. 

'   EARLY  RISING. 

1.  Whatever  maybe  the  quantity  of  sleep  required,  early 
rising  is  essential  to  health,  and  promotes  longevity.^  Almost 
all  men  who  have  distinguished  themselves  in  science,  litera- 
ture, and  the  arts,  have  been  early  risers.  The  industrious, 
the  active-minded,  the  enthusiasts^  in  pursuit  of  knowledge 
or  gain,  are  up  betimes  at  their  respective  occupations,  while 
the  sluggard  wastes  the  most  beautiful  period  of  his  life  in 
pernicious  slumber. 

2.  Homer,  Virgil,  and  Horace  are  all  represented  as  early 
risers :  the  same  was  the  case  with  Paley,  Priestley,  and  Buf 
fon ;  the  last  of  whom  ordered  his  servant  to  awaken  him 
every  morning,  and  compel  him  to  get  up  by  force  if  he 
evinced  any  reluctance;  for  which  service  he  was  rewarded 
with  a  crown  each  day,  which  recompense  he  forfeited  if  he 
did  not  oblige  his  master  to  get  out  of  bed  before  the  clock 
struck  six. 

3.  Bishops  Jewel  and  Burnet  rose  every  morning  at  four 
o'clock.  Sir  Thomas  More  did  the  same  thing.  Napoleon 
was  an  early  riser ;  so  were  Frederick  the  Great,  Charles  the 
Twelfth,  and  Washington.  Sir  Walter  Scott,  during  the 
greater  part  of  his  life,  rose  by  five  o'clock ;  and  his  literary 
work  was  accomplished  chiefly  before  breakfast.  Franklin 
and  nearly  all  the  great  men  of  the  American  Revolution 
were  early  risers ;  so  were  Daniel  Webster  and  John  Quincy 
Adams.  That  early  rising  tends  to  prolong  life  appears  to 
be  clearly  proved.  One  of  the  most  eminent  judges  of  En- 
gland— Lord  Mansfield — was  at  the  pains  of  collecting  some 
curious  evidence  on  this  subject.  When  he  presided  in  his 
judicial  capacity  over  the  court,  he  .questioned  every  old  per- 
son who  appeared  at  the  bar  respecting  his  habits ;  and  all 
agreed  on  one  point — that  of  being  early  risers. — Anonymous. 

4.  ''Falsely  luxurious,^  will  not  man  awake, 

And,  springing  from  the  bed  of  sloth,  enjoy 
The  cool,  the  fragrant,  and  the  silent  hour, 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  .  HUMAN   PHYSIOLOGY    AND    HEALTH. 


15 


To  meditation  due  and  sacred  song? — 

Wildered*  and  tossing  through  distempered  dreams, 

Who  would  in  such  a  gloomy  state  remain 

Longer  than  nature  craves,  when  every  Muse 

And  every  blooming  pleasure  wait  withmit, 

To  bless  the  wildly-devious^  morning  walk?"  Thomson. 

5  "  Rise  with  the  lark  and  with  the  lark  to  bed. 

Give  to  repose  the  solemn  hour  she  claims ; 
And  from  the  forehead  of  the  morning  steal 
The  sweet  occasion. 

6.  "  O  !  there  is  a  charm 
That  morning  has,  that  gives  the  brow  of  age 
A  smack  of  youth,  and  makes  the  lip  of  youth 
Breathe  perfumes  exquisite.     Expect  it  not, 
Yd  who  till  noon  upon  a  down-bed  lie, 
Indulging  feverish  sleep ;  or,  wakeful,  dream 
Of  happiness  no  mortal  heart  has  felt. 

But  in  the  regions  of  romance'. 

7.  "Ye  fair, 
Like  you  it  must  be  wooed,  or  never  won ; 
And,  being  lost,  it  is  in  vain  ye  ask 

For  milk  of  roses  and  Olympian  dew. 

Cosmetic^  art  no  tincture  can  afford 

The  faded  features  to  restore :  no  chain. 

Be  it  of  gold,  and  strong  as  adamant. 

Can  fetter  beauty  to  the  fair  one's  will."  Hurdis. 


LoN-QEv'-i-Tr,  long  life. 
EN-Tnu'-siA8TS,  persons  of  ardent  zeal. 
Lux-C'-Ri-ous,  Indulging  to  excess  in  the 
gratification  of  any  appetite. 


*  Wil'-dbk-ei>,  puzzled ;  losing  one's  way. 

5  De'-vi-O08,  rambling;  roving. 

6  Co*-MET'-ie,  promoting  beauty ;  a  vrash  to 
improve  beauty. 


lesso:n^  XXIII. 

THE  OLD  COTTAGE  CLOCK. 

CHARLES  SWADf. 

O,  THE  old,  old  clock,  of  the  household  stock  V 

Was  the  brightest  thing  and  neatest^ ; 
The  hands',  though  old',  had  a  touch^  of  gold\ 

And  its  chime^  rang  still  the  sweetest\ 
'Twas  a  monitor,*  too,  though  its  words  were  few^ ; 

Yet  they  lived,  though  nations  altered^ ; 
And  its  voice,  still  strong,  warned  old  and  young', 

.  When  the  voice  of  friendship  faltered\^ 


16  willson's  fourth  EEADEE.  Pakt  I. 

"  Tick,  tick,"  it  said — "  quick,  quick,  to  bed' ; 

For  ten  I've  given  warning^ ; 
Up,  up,  and  go,  or  else,  you  know'. 

You'll  never  rise  soon  in  the  morning\" 

2.  A  friendly  voice  was  that  old,  old  clock'. 

As  it  stood  in  the  corner  smiling, 
And  blessed  the  time  with  a  merry  chime. 

The  wintry  hours  beguiling^  f 
But  a  cross  old  voice  was  that  tiresome  clock 

As  it  called  at  daybreak  boldly\ 
When  the  dawn  looked  gray  o'er  the  misty  way. 

And  the  early  air  blew  coldly^ : 
"  Tick,  tick,"  it  said — "  quick,  out  of  bed ; 

For  five  I've  given  warning' ; 
You'll  never  have  health,  you'll  never  get  wealth, 

Unless  you're  up'  soon  in  the  morning." 


^  '■'■  HoiTSEnoLD  8T00K,"  household  goods  or 

furniture. 
'  Touch,  appearance  (shining  like  gold). 
«  Chtme,  the  sound  made  by  striking. 


*  Mon'-i-toe,  one  who  gives  warning  or  ad- 
vice. 

5  Fal'-teb-ed,  failed ;  hesitated. 

6  Be-guIl'-ing,  causing  to  pass  pleasantly. 


LESSON  XXIV. 

HEALTH  PROVERBS. 

A  HAPPi  heart  makes  a  blooming  visage. 
A  good  life  keeps  off  wrinkles. 

A  penny-worth  of  mirth  is  worth  a  pound  of  sorrow. 
A  merry  heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine. — Solomon. 
If  we  subdue  not  our  passions,  they  will  subdue  us. 
Passion  is  a  fever  that  leaves  us  weaker  than  it  finds  us. 
Where  reason  rules,  appetite  obeys. 
He  that  wants  health  wants  every  thing. 
Sickness  is  felt,  but  health  not  at  all. 
Diseases  are  the  interest  paid  for  pleasure. 
The  follies  of  youth  are  food  for  repentance  in  old  age. 
Eat  little  at  dinner,  and  less  at  supper. 
After  dinner  sit  a  while,  after  supper  walk  a  mile. 
He  that  riseth  early  may  walk,  but  he  that  riscth  late  must 
trot  all  day. 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OBNITHOLOGY. 


11 


PAET  II. 
SECOND  DIVISION  OF  ZOOLOGY; 

CONTINUED  FROM   THE   THIRD   READER,   AND   HERE   EMBRACING 

ORNITHOLOGY, 

OR  THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  BHIDS. 


LESSON  I. 

BIRDS. 

1.  Birds  are  prominently  distinguished  from  the  mamraa- 
lia^  by  their  general  form  and  feathery  covering,  and  by  pro- 
ducing their  young  from  eggs.  In  form  and  structure^  they 
are  wisely  adapted  to  the  element^  in  which  they  move. 

2.  The  head  of  the  bird  is  pointed,  so  as  easily  to  cleave 
the  air ;  the  body  expands  gently,  and  has  wings  which  serve 
as  movable  weights  to  balance  it,  and  as  oars  to  propel*  it 
forward ;  and  it  diminishes  by  a  spreading  tail  that  helps  to 


WILLSON  S    FOUKTH    READER. 


Part  II. 


keep  it  buoyant,^  and,  at  the  same  time,  serves  as  a  rudder 
to  direct  its  course. 

3.  The  great  bones  of  the  limbs,  and  many  of  those  of  the 
body,  are  hollow  receptacles^  of  air,  communicating  with  the 
lungs.  In  various  parts  of  the  body  are  also  bladder-like 
cavities'  which  can  be  swollen  out  with  warm  air,  so  as  to 
give  the  bird  additional  size,  and  enable  it  to  float  in  its  na- 
tive element  with  greater  ease.  The  quills  and  feathers,  by 
their  peculiar  form  and  structure,  unite  the  greatest  possible 
degrees  of  lightness  and  strength. 

4.  The  various  classes  of  birds  are  also  formed  with  special 
reference  to  the  various  modes  in  which  they  are  to  gain 
their  subsistence.  Thus  birds  of  prey,  like  the  carnivorous^ 
mammalia,  are  distinguished  by  their  size,  strength,  and  re- 
markable length  of  sight.  The  other  classes  of  land  birds, 
and  also  the  two  divisions  of  water  birds,  are  all  equally  w^ell 
adapted  to  the  various  modes  of  life  marked  out  for  them  by 
the  great  Creator. 

5.  This  principle  of  adaptation  —  of  means  designed  for 
some  particular  end — is  seen  especially  in  the  feet,  or  claws, 
and  beaks  of  birds.  In  how  marked  a  manner  do  the  pow- 
erful talons^  of  the  eagles,  hawks,  and  owls,  differ  from  the 
tiny  feet  of  the  perching  swallow  and  the  w^ren ;  and  the 
long,  stilt-like  legs  of  the  ostrich,  designed  for  running,  from 
the  webbed  feet  of  the  swimming  ducks,  geese,  and  pelicans. 


ieut  of  Birds,     bee  Note. 


6.  The  beaks  of  birds  differ  perhaps  still  more  widely.    In 
birds  of  prey  the  beak  is  like  a  carving  or  dissecting  knife ; 


TV.ET  OF  BiRPB— 1.  Claw  of  Golden  Fagle.  2.  Eagle  Owl.  3.  roiiltry  bird.  4.  Rock 
Ptarmigan.  5.  Perching  bird.  6.  Climbing  bird,  Woodpecker.  7.  Grebe.  8.  Plover. 
C.  Phalarope.    10.  Duck.     11.  Tbla. 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. —  ORNITHOLOGY. 


19 


in  the  woodpeckers  it  is  an  effective  chisel ;  in  the  snipe,  the 
curlew,  and  the  humming-birds,  it  is  a  long  and  slender  probe ; 
in  the  parrots  it  is  a  climbing  hook  or  a  fruit-knife ;  in  the 
swallows  it  is  a  kind  of  fly-trap ;  in  the  swans,  geese,  and 
ducks,  it  is  a  flattened  strainer ;  in  the  storks  and  herons  it 
is  like  a  fish-spear ;  in  the  seed-eating  birds  it  forms  a  pair  of 
seed-crackers  for  removing  the  kernel  from  the  husk  whicli 
covers  it. 


Heads  of  Birds,     bee  iNote. 


7.  And  how  peculiar  are  those  instincts  of  birds  which 
teach  them  to  build  their  nests,  each  after  the  fashion  pur- 
sued from  time  immemorial  by  its  own  particular  species! 
While  the  untamed  eagle  builds  its  nest  of  a  mass  of  sticks 
rudely  thrown  together  on  some  inaccessible  cliff,  while  the 
condor  of  the  Andes  has  no  nest  but  the  bare  and  lofty  rock, 
and  the  ostrich  of  the  torrid  zone  often  "  leaves  her  eggs  in 
the  earth,  and  warmeth  them  in  the  sand,"  other  birds  build 
nests  of  most  elaborate^^  pattern  and  exquisite"  workmanship. 

8.  "Some  to  the  holly-hedge 
Nestling  repair,  and  to  the  thicket  some ; 
Some  to  the  rude  protection  of  the  thorn 
Commit  their  feeble  offspring ;  the  cleft  tree 
Offers  its  kind  concealment  to  a  few, 

Their  food  its  insects,  and  its  moss  their  nests. 

Others  apart,  far  in  the  grassy  dale, 

Or  rough 'ning  waste,  their  humble  texture  weave." — Thomson. 


Heads  OP  Birds. —1.  Falcon.  2.  Eagle.  3.  Owl.  4.  Parrot.  5.  Puffin.  6.  Cur- 
lew. 7.  Crossbill.  8.  Merganser  Duck.  9.  Woodpecker.  10.  Plover.  11.  Duck.  12. 
Crane.    13.  Humming-bird.     14    Petrel.     15.  Hombill.    16.  Whip-poor-will. 


80 


willson's  fourth  reader. 


Part  II. 


Nests  of  Birds.     See  Note. 

9.  "It  wins  my  admiration 
To  view  the  structure  of  that  little  work — 

A  bird's  nest.     Mark  it  well,  within,  without ; 
No  tool  had  he  that  wrought ;  no  knife  to  cut ; 
No  nail  to  fix ;  no  bodkin  to  insert ; 
No  glue  to  join ;  his  little  beak  was  all ; 
And  yet  how  neatly  finish'd !     What  nice  hand, 
With  every  implement  and  means  of  art. 
And  twenty  years'  apprenticeship  to  boot, 
Could  make  me  such  another?" — Hurdis. 

10.  The  migrations'^  ^f  birds  furnish  us  another  subject 
which  shows  forth  the  abundant  wisdom  that  pervades  the 
whole  economy'^  of  nature.  Most  of  our  summer  birds  leave 
us  at  the  approach  of  winter  to  seek  food  and  shelter  hund- 
reds  and  sometimes  thousands  of  miles  away,  in  sunnier 
climes.  Who  taught  them  thus  to  know  the  changing  sea- 
sons ?  What  hand  guides  and  gives  strength  of  wing  to  sus- 
tain them  in  their  homeward  flight?  How  natural  that  their 
departure  from  us  in  the  closing  season  of  the  year  should 
remind  us  to  prepare  for  our  departure  ere  the  winter  of 
death  closes  over  us. 

11.  "Ye  gentle  birds,  that  perch  aloof, 

And  smooth  your  pinions^*  on  my  roof, 


Nests  op  Btsds. — 1.  Cliff  Swallows.  3.  Sociable  Weaver  TMrds,  having  entrances  be- 
low, and  numerous  nests  within,  3.  Bar-tailed  Humming  Bird ;  nest  of  downy  mate- 
rials,  often  woven  together  with  spiders'  weba.  4.  Republican  Grosbeaks,  or  Weaver 
Birds ;  the  general  cover,  built  by  the  united  labors  of  the  birds,  somotimef"  shelters 
hundreds  of  nests.  6.  Chestnut-crowned  Titmouse.  6.  Nest  of  Tailor  Bird,  formed  by 
stitching  leaves  together.  7.  Pendulous  Titmouse.  S.Wren.  9.  Baltimore  Oriole.  10. 
Wood  Swallow.     11.  Weaver  Finches ;  suspended  over  water,  with  entrance  from  benoatlu 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY.  81 

Preparing  for  departure  hence, 
Now  Winter's  angry  threats  commence  ; 
Like  you,  my  soul  would  smooth  her  plixme 
For  longer  flights  beyond  the  tomb. 

12.  "  May  God,  by  whom  is  seen  and  heard 

Departing  men  and  wandering  bird, 

In  mercy  mark  us  for  his  own, 

And  guide  us  to  the  land  unknown!" — W.  Haylet. 

13.  The  dress  or  plumage  of  birds  is  not  only  admirable 
for  its  fitness  to  the  ends  for  which  it  was  designed — for  its 
softness,  smoothness,  compactness,  and  lightness — but  also 
for  the  most  brilliant  coloring  which  is  lavished  upon  so  many 
of  the  "  winged  denizens^^  of  the  air."  This  is  more  especial- 
ly true  of  birds  of  the  torrid  zone,  whose  glowing  colors,  ri- 
valing the  hues  of  the  rainbow,  mock  the  efforts  of  the  artist 
to  depict^^  them  in  their  gorgeous  richness  and  beauty. 

14.  But  it  is  the  singing  of  birds  —  the  melody  of  the 
"  songsters  of  the  grove" — and  the  grace  of  their  motions, 
not  less  than  their  beautiful  plumage,  which  have  thrown 
such  a  charm  around  these  "  creatures  of  freedom  and  light," 
as  ever  to  have  made  them  favorite  subjects  of  poetry  and 
song.  The  study  of  the  forms,  history^  and  habits  of  birds, 
abundantly  illustrated  as  all  these  subjects  have  been  by  the 
genius  of  the  poet  and  the  painter,  can  not  fail  to  be  both  in- 
teresting and  instructive  to  every  lover  of  Nature ;  and  its 
happy  tendency  must  be  to  lead  the  mind  "  from  Nature  up 
to  Nature's  God." 

15.  The  first  and  most  plainly-marked  division  of  birds  is 
into  two  great  classes.  Land  Birds  and  Water  Birds.  Of  the 
former  there  are  five  great  divisions  or  orders,  which  are  des- 
ignated as,  1st,  Birds  of  Prey  ;  2d,  Perchers^  or  sparrow-like 
birds ;  3d,  Climbers^  such  as  the  parrots,  woodpeckers,  and 
cuckoos ;  4th,  Scratchers^  or  poultry  birds ;  and,  5th,  Run- 
ners^ which  embrace  the  ostriches.  Of  the  Water  Birds  there 
are  two  great  divisions  or  orders,  designated  by  the  names 
Waders  and  Swimmers. 

16.  These  divisions  into  orders  take  their  rise  chiefly  from 
marked  differences  in  the  feet  or  claws  of  birds,  some  of  which 
bave  already  been  noticed.     Each  of  these  orders  is  farther  di- 

D2 


82 


willson's  fourth  reader. 


Part  II. 


vided  into  families — the  external  marks  on  which  these  divi- 
sions are  founded  being  chiefly  differences  in  the  forms  of  the 
bills.  Thus  some  families  are  known  as  the  cleft-bills,  some  as 
toothed-bills,  some  as  cone-bills,  and  others  as  thin-bills.  The 
whole  number  of  different  species  of  birds  described  has  been 
estimated  at  about  six  thousand. 


Mam-ma'-li-a,  animals  that  suckle  their 
young.     See  Third  Reader. 
Stru€t'-Cee,  arrangement  of  parts. 
kl'-e-ment,  natural  dwelling-place,  as  the 
air, 

Peo-pel',  move. 
Buoy'-ant,  light;  floating. 
Re-ckp'-ta-cle,  a  place  in  which  some- 
thing is  contained. 
€av'-i-tie»,  hollow  places. 


8  Cab-niv'-o-botts,  flesh-eating. 

9  Tal'-on,  the  Avhole  foot  of  a  hird  of  prey. 

10  E-lab'-o-eate,  studied  with  great  care.' 

11  £x'-QCi*-iTE,  very  nice  ;  exact. 

12  MT-gea'-tion,  removal  from  one  climate 
or  country  to  another. 

13  E-€6n'-o-my,  arrangement ;  plan. 
1*  PTn'-ions,  feathers  ;  wings. 

15  Den'-i-zen*;,  inhabitants. 

16  DE-PieT',  to  paint. 


LESSON  II. 

BIRDS. 
.  Birds — birds!    ye  are  beautiful 
^     '  things, 

^  With  your  earth-treading  feet  and 

^  your  cloud-cleaving  wings ;  ^ 

Where  shall  man  wander,  and  where  shall  he  dwell. 
Beautiful  birds,  that  ye  come  not  as  well  ? 

2.  Ye  have  nests  on  the  mountain  all  rugged  and  stark,^ 
Ye  have  nests  in  the  forest  all  tangled  and  dark : 
Ye  build  and  ye  brood^  'neath  the  cottagers'  eaves, 
And  ye  sleep  on  the  sod  'mid  the  bonnie^  green  leaves ; 
Ye  hide  in  the  heather,  ye  lurk  in  the  brake, 
Ye  dive  in  the  sweet-flags  that  shadow  the  lake : 


*2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY.  83 

Ye  skim  where  the  stream  parts  the  orchard-decked  land, 
Ye  dance  where  the  foam  sweeps  the  desolate  strand. 

3.  Beautiful  birds !  ye  come  thickly  around 

When  the  bud's  on  the  branch  and  the  snow's  on  the 

ground ; 
Ye  come  when  the  richest  of  roses  flush  out, 
And  ye  come  when  the  yellow  leaf  eddies*  about. 

4.  Beautiful  birds !  how  the  school-boy  remembers 

The  warblers  that  chorused^  his  holiday  tune ; 
The  robin  that  chirped  in  the  frosty  December, 

The  blackbird  that  whistled  through  flower-crowned 
June : 
The  school-boy  remembers  his  holiday  ramble, 

When  he  pulled  every  blossom  of  palm  he  could  see, 
When  his  finger  was  raised  as  he  stopped  in  the  bramble 
With  "  Hark !  there's  the  cuckoo ;  how  near  he  must 
be!" 

5.  Beautiful  creatures  of  freedom  and  light! 

Oh !  where  is  the  eye  that  groweth  not  bright 
As  it  watches  you  trimming  your  soft  glossy  coats, 
Swelling  your  bosoms,  and  ruffling  your  throats  ? 
Oh !  I  would  not  ask,  as  the  old  ditties®  sing. 
To  be  "  happy  as  sand-boy,"  or  "  happy  as  king ;" 
For  the  joy  is  more  blissful  that  bids  me  declare, 
"  I'm  as  happy  as  all  the  wild  birds  of  the  air." 

G.  I  will  tell  them  to  find  me  a  grave  when  I  die. 
Where  no  marble  will  shut  out  the  glorious  sky ; 
Let  them  give  me  a  tomb  where  the  daisy  will  bloom. 
Where  the  moon  will  shine  down,  and  the  leveret"^  pass  by ; 
But  be  sure  there's  a  tree  stretching  out  far  and  wide. 
Where  the  linnet,  the  thrush,  and  the  woodlark  may  hide ; 
For  the  truest  and  purest  of  requiems^  heard 
Is  the  eloquent  hymn  of  the  beautiful  bird. 

Eliza  Cook. 


'  Staek,  lone ;  still ;  barren. 

'  Bkoot),  sit  on  and  cover  their  eggs  in  their 

nests. 
'  B6n'-nxe  (or  bon'-mi),  gay;  cheerful. 
*  kb'-b'b*.,  moves  circularly  when  falling  to, 

the  ground. 


5  Cno'-RUSEP,  sung  in  chorus  or  concert. 

6  DVt'-ties,  little  poems  to  bo  sung. 

7  Lkv'-ee-et,  a  hare  in  the  first  year  of  her 
age. 

8  Rk'-qui-em,  a  hymn  pung  for  the  dead. 


84 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH   READER. 


Fart  II. 


I.  BIRDS  OF  PREY. 

LESSON  III. 
THE  FALCON  TRIBE. 


Scale  of  Feet. 


1.  Golden  Eagle,  Aquila  chrrjsceta.  2.  Peregrine  Falcon,  Falco  peregrimis.  3.  Bald 
I'agle,  Halicetiis  Icucocephahis.  4.  Common  Kite,  Falco  milvus.  5.  Swallow-tailed 
Hawk,  Falco  furcatits.  6.  Mexican  Harpy  Eagle,  Thrascetus  hariyyia.  7.  Ger-falcon, 
Falco  (pjrfalco.  8.  Sparrow  Hawk,  Falco  nisus.  9.  South  American  Crested  Hawk, 
Sj^izcetus  cristatelhcs.    10.  Goah&wii,  Falco  palumbarius.    11.  Oaprey^  Falco  halicstiis. 

1 .  The  first  order  of  birds  consists  of  the  birds  of  prey, 
which  embrace  three  families,  known  as,  1st,  the  Falcons, 
which  include  the  eagles,  kites,  buzzards,  and  hawks ;  2d,  the 
Vultures  ;  and,  3d,  the  Owls.  All  of  the  falcon  tribe,  ex- 
cept two  or  three  of  the  larger  eagles,  are  generally  known 
by  the  common  name  of  hawks.  The  birds  of  prey  and  the 
carnivorous  quadrupeds  are  very  much  alike  in  general  char- 
acter, both  being  large  and  strong,  of  dispositions  fierce  and 
daring,  and  the  whole  frame  adapted  for  swift  pursuit  or 
powerful  action. 

2.  In  treating  of  the  falcon  tribe  the  first  place  is  given  to 
the  Eagle,  on  account  of  its  great  size  and  strength,  the 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  85 

grandeur  of  its  aspect,  and  the  dignity  of  its  movements.  The 
golden  eagle,  which  is  about  three  feet  in  length,  having  a 
plumage  of  a  deep  and  rich  yellowish-brown,  glossed  on  the 
back  and  wings  with  purple,  is  a  truly  magnificent  bird,  and 
has  ever  been  associated  with  majesty  or  nobility.  By  the 
ancient  Greeks  and  Romans  he  was  called  the  "  bird  of  Jove ;" 
and  by  all  rude  and  savage  nations  he  is  regarded  as  the  ap- 
propriate emblem^  of  courage  and  independence. 

3.  The  golden  eagle  is  found  throughout  the  whole  circuit 
of  the  entire  globe.  The  eyry^  of  this  noble  bird  is  generally 
the  face  of  some  stupendous  inland  cliff,  with  its  nest  on  a 
projecting  shelf,  or  on  some  dwarf  tree  that  grows  from  the 
rock,  generally  in  a  situation  perfectly  inaccessible,  and  often 
out  of  the  reach  of  shot  either  from  below  or  from  the  top  of 
the  precipice. 

4.  The  eagle,  when  in  search  of  food,  surveys  the  ground 
by  soaring  above  it,  often  to  an  immense  height ;  and  when 
its  rapid  eye  detects  its  prey,  it  rushes  downward  with  the 
rapidity  of  an  arrow,  and  seldom  fails  to  seize  the  object  at 
which  it  aims.  In  this  manner  hares,  lambs,  grouse,  and 
sometimes  the  young  of  deer  and  foxes,  are  borne  away  to 
feed  its  young. 

5.  During  our  revolutionary  war  a  golden  eagle  had  placed 
her  nest  below  one  of  the  cliffs  on  the  Hudson  River.  A  sol- 
dier was  let  down  by  his  companions,  suspended  by  a  rope 
round  his  body.  When  he  reached  the  nest  he  suddenly 
found  himself  furiously  assailed  by  the  eagle.  In  self-defense 
he  drew  the  only  weapon  about  him,  his  knife,  and  made  re- 
peated thrusts  at  the  bird,  when  accidentally  he  cut  the  rope 
nearly  off.  It  began  unraveling,  when  those  above  hastily 
drew  him  up,  and  relieved  him  from  his  perilous  situation  at 
the  moment  when  he  expected  to  be  precipitated  to  the  bot- 
tom ;  but  so  powerful  was  the  effect  of  the  fear  he  had  ex- 
perienced, that  within  three  days  his  head  became  quite  gray. 

6.  The  white-headed,  or  bald  eagle,  as  it  is  called,  equaling 
in  size  the  golden  eagle,  is  the  most  common  of  the  eagle 
tribe  in  this  country,  and  the  one  adopted  by  us  as  our  na- 
tional emblem.  It  is  not  bald-headed,  as  its  name  indicates ; 
but  the  appearance  of  the  white  feathers  of  the  head,  con- 


S6  WILLSON'S   FOTJBTH   EEADEE.  Pakt  II. 

trasting  strongly  with  the  dark  color  of  the  rest  of  the  plum- 
age, has  given  it  the  false  name  by  which  it  is  now  generally 
known. 

7.  The  flight  of  the  bald  eagle,  when  we  consider  the  ar- 
dor and  energy  of  his  character,  is  noble  and  interesting. 
Sometimes  the  human  eye  can  just  discern  him,  like  a  minute 
speck,  slowly  moving  in  a  large  circle  along  the  face  of  the 
heavens,  as  if  reconnoitring^  the  earth  at  that  immense  dis- 
tance. Sometimes  he  glides  along  in  a  direct  horizontal  line, 
at  a  vast  height,  with  expanded  and  unmoving  wings,  till  he 
gradually  disappears  in  the  distant  blue  ether.* 

8.  At  the  great  cataract  of  Niagara  bald  eagles  were  for- 
merly seen  in  considerable  numbers,  and  at  all  seasons  of  the 
year,  attracted  thither  by  the  carcasses  of  animals  that  had 
been  drawn  into  the  current  and  precipitated  over  the  falls. 
Their  presence,  as  they  would  penetrate,  seemingly  in  reck- 
less daring,  into  the  very  midst  of  the  spray  that  rose  from 
the  falling  waters,  gave  additional  sublimity  to  the  scene. 

).   "High  o'er  the  watery  uproar,  silent  seen, 
Sailing  sedate,  in  majesty  serene, 
Now  midst  the  pillared  spray  sublimely  lost, 
And  now,  emerging,  down  the  rapids  tossed, 
Glides  the  bald  eagle,  gazing,  calm  and  slow, 
O'er  all  the  horrors  of  the  scene  below ; 
Intent  alone  to  sate*  himself  with  blood. 
From  the  torn  victims  of  the  raging  flood." 

Alex.  Wilson. 

10.  The  fish -hawk,  or  osprey,  another  bird  of  the  eagle 
family,  is  found  in  considerable  numbers  in  the  northern 
United  States  from  March  to  September,  frequenting  bays  of 
the  ocean,  and  inland  ponds  and  streams  which  abound  in  fish. 
It  is  nearly  two  feet  in  length ;  its  bill  is  of  a  bluish  black, 
the  head  mostly  white,  and  the  wings  and  back  of  a  deep 
brown.  It  is  a  welcome  bird  to  the  fishermen  on  our  coasts, 
who  regard  its  arrival  in  spring  as  the  harbinger^  of  plenty. 

11.  A  great  length  of  wing  and  a  forked  tail  are  the  prin- 
cipal characters  which  distinguish  the  Kites  from  the  rest  of 
the  birds  of  prey.  The  most  noted  of  this  family  are  the 
common  kite  of  Europe,  and  the  swallow-tnilcd  hawk,  which 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  87 

is  found  abundantly  in  the  southern  United  States.  The  Buz- 
zards are  distinguished  by  their  expanded  wings  and  squared 
tails.  The  best  known  of  the  buzzards  in  this  country  is  the 
red-tailed  buzzard,  more  commonly  called  the  hen-hawk. 

12.  "  The  hawk,  in  mid-air  high, 
On  his  broad  pinions  sailing  round  and  round, 
With  not  a  flutter,  or  but  now  and  then, 

As  if  his  trembling  balance  to  regain, 
Utters  a  single  scream,  but  faintly  heard. 
And  all  again  is  still." — C.  Wilcox. 

13.  Of  the  Falcons  proi:)er,  the  peregrine  falcon  of  Europe, 
known  also  as  the  "  blue  hawk"  of  Scotland,  and  as  the 
"  great-footed  hawk"  and  "  duck-hawk"  of  America,  is  the 
most  noted.  In  the  age  of  falconry  it  was  greatly  valued  in 
Europe  for  sporting  purposes.  It  is  the  terror  of  wild-fowl 
on  our  coasts,  and  the  wonder  of  sportsmen,  uncommonly 
bold  and  powerful,  darting  on  its  prey  with  astonishing  ve- 
locity, and  striking  it  to  the  earth  or  water  before  securing  it. 

14.  When  water-fowl  perceive  the  approach  of  the  pere- 
grine falcon,  a  universal  alarm  pervades  their  ranks.  If  they 
are  flying,  they  all  speed  to  the  water,  and  there  remain  till 
the  enemy  has  passed  them,  diving  the  moment  he  comes 
near  them.  He  is  said  often  to  follow  the  footsteps  of  the 
gunner,  knowing  that  the  ducks  will  be  aroused  on  the  wing, 
which  will  aiford  him  a  chance  of  almost  certain  success  in 
taking  his  prey.  The  falcon  is  not  only  a  universal  plunder- 
er, but  he  is  bold  and  fearless  also.  He  has  been  justly  called 
"  the  Arab  of  the  air." 

15.  "  The  falcon  is  a  noble  bird  ; 

And  when  his  heart  of  hearts  is  stirr'd, 

He'll  seek  the  eagle,  though  he  run 

Into  his  chamber  near  the  sun. 

Never  was  there  brute  or  bird. 

Whom  the  Avoods  or  mountains  heard, 

That  could  force  a  fear  or  care 

From  him — the  Arab  of  the  air.'" — Proctor. 

16.  At  one  time  the  sport  of  falconry — the  practice  of  tak- 
ing wild-fowl  by  means  of  hawks  trained  to  the  purpose  — 
was  common  in  England.     After  having  been  long  in  disuse, 


88 


WILLSON  S   FOURTH   READER. 


Part  II. 


it  has  latterly  been  revived ;  and  it  is  but  a  short  time  since 
the  English  papers  teemed"^  with  accounts  of  a  hawking  party 
in  England,  in  which  dukes  and  duchesses  joined  in  the  sport. 


-'^.■ 


Hawkiug. 

17.  That  the  peregrine  falcon  is  not  incapable  of  personal 
attachment  to  its  keeper,'  the  followhig  anecdote  will  show. 
A  favorite  falcon  had  escaped  from  an  English  officer  on  his 
passage  from  England  to  Canada.  Some  time  after,  learning 
that  an  American  captain  at  Halifax  had  in  his  possession  a 
fine  hawk  which  had  made  its  appearance  on  board  of  his 
ship  during  his  late  passage  from  Liverpool,  the  officer  set. 
out  for  Halifax,  with  the  hope  of  recovering  his  bird. 

18.  As  the  captain  demanded  proof  of  ownership,  it  was 
agreed  that  if  the  hawk,  when  brought  into  a  room  full  of 
gentlemen,  should  recognize  the  officer,  and  manifest  un- 
doubted signs  of  attachment,  he  should  be  given  up.  Ko 
sooner  was  the  hawk  brought  in  by  the  captain  than  he  dart- 
ed from  him,  and,  perching  on  the  shoulder  of  the  officer, 
rubbed  his  head  against  his  cheek,  played  with  the  buttons 
of  his  coat,  and  by  every  means  in  his  power  evinced  his  de- 
light and  affection.  The  proof  was  entirely  satisfactory,  and 
the  falcon  was  restored  to  its  risrhtful  owner. 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. OENITHOLOGY. 


89 


19.  Of  the  Hawks  proper,  the  goshawk,  or  peregrine  hawk, 
is  the  largest  and  most  powerful,  being  from  twenty  inches 
to  two  feet  in  length.  This  bird  is  now  of  rare  occmTence 
in  the  United  States,  but  is  found  widely  extended  in  range 
throughout  Europe  and  America.  His  flight  is  exceedingly 
rapid.  At  times  he  passes  like  a  meteor  through  the  woods, 
where  he  secures  squirrels  and  hares  with  ease.  At  other 
times  he  will  give  chase  to  a  flock  of  wild  pigeons,  forcing 
himself  into  the  very  centre  of  the  flock,  scattering  them  in 
confusion,  and  never  failing  to  secure  a  bird  in  his  talons. 

20.  Audubon  describes  one  which  he  saw  turninp'  from  a 
flock  of  pigeons  to  give  chase  to  a  large  flock  of  crow  black- 
birds then  crossing  the  Ohio  River :  "  The  hawk  approached 
them  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow,  when  the  blackbirds 
rushed  together  so  closely  that  the  flock  looked  like  a  dusky 
ball  passing  through  the  air.  On  reaching  the  mass,"  he,  with 
the  greatest  ease,  seized  first  one,  then  another,  and  another, 
giving  each  a  squeeze  with  his  talons,  and  suffering  it  to  drop 
upon  the  water.  In  this  manner  he  procured  four  or  five  be- 
fore the  poor  birds  reached  the  Avoods,  into  which  they  in- 
stantly j)lunged,  when  he  gave  up  the  chase,  swept  back  over 
the  water  in  graceful  curves,  and  picked  up  the  fruits  of  his 
industry,  carrying  each  bird  singly  to  the  shore." 

21.  But  the  most  common  of  American  hawks  is  the  «par- 
o'ow  -  hawk,  which  is  found  in  every  district  from  Maine  to 
Texas,  and  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  It  is  only  about 
half  the  size  of  the  goshawk.  Beautifully  erect,  it  may  often 
be  seen  on  the  highest  fence-stake,  the  broken  top  of  a  tree, 
the  summit  of  a  grain-stack,  or  the  corner  of  the  barn,  patient- 
ly and  silently  waiting  until  it  spy  a  mole,  a  field-mouse,  a 
cricket,  or  a  grasshopper,  on  which  to  pounce.  The  blue 
jays  have  a  particular  antipathy^  to  the  sparrow-hawk,  often 
following  it  and  mocking  its  notes ;  in  return  for  which  the 
insulted  bird  now  and  then  contents  himself  with  feeding  on 
the  plumpest  of  his  persecutors. 


1  km'-blem,  representation. 

2  ky'-ry  (4-'j7/),  the  place  where  birds 
prey  construct  their  nests. 

3  Re-con-noi'-tring,  examining. 
*  E'-TUEK,  the  sky. 


5  Pate,  to  satisfy ;  to  ghit. 

6  Har'-15In-gee,  sign  :  thftt  which  precedes 
and  gives  notice  of  something. 

^  "•  Teemed  with,"  v/ere  full  of. 
8  An-tTp'-a-tuy,  hatred. 


90  WILLSON's  fourth   reader.  Part  II. 


LESSOIS^  IV. 


Eagle  pursuing  the  Swan. 

HABITS  OF  THE  EAGLE. 

1.  To  give  you,  kind  reader,  some  idea  of  the  nature  of  the 
noble  bird  whose  figure  is  emblazoned^  on  our  national  stand- 
ard, permit  us  to  place  you  on  the  Mississippi,  on  which  you 
may  float  gently  along,  while  approaching  winter  brings  mil- 
lions of  water-fowl  on  whistling  wings,  from  the  countries  of 
the  north,  to  seek  a  milder  climate  in  which  to  sojourn  for  a 
season. 

2.  The  eagle  is  seen  perched,  in  an  erect  attitude,  on  the 
summit  of  the  tallest  tree  by  the  margin  of  the  broad  stream. 
His  glistening  but  stern  eye  looks  over  the  vast  expanse.^ 
He  listens  attentively  to  every  sound  that  comes  to  his  quick 
ear  from  afar,  glancing  now  and  then  on  the  earth  beneath, 
lest  even  the  light  tread  of  the  fawn  may  pass  unheard.  His 
mate  is  perched  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stream,  and, 
should  all  be  tranquil  and  silent,  warns  him  by  a  cry  to  con- 
tinue patient. 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY* ORNITHOLOGY.  91 

3.  At  this  well  known  call  the  male  partly  opens  his  broad 
wings,  inclines  his  body  a  little  downward,  and  answers  to 
Iier  voice  in  tones  not  unlike  the  laugh  of  a  maniac.  The 
next  moment  he  resumes  his  erect  attitude,  and  again  all 
around  is  silent.  Ducks  of  many  species  are  seen  passing 
with  great  rapidity,  and  following  the  course  of  the  current ; 
but  the  eagle  heeds  them  not :  they  are  at  that  time  beneath 
liis  attention. 

4.  The  next  moment,  however,  the  wild  trumpet-like  sound 
of  a  yet  distant  but  approaching  swan  is  heard.  A  shriek 
from  the  female  eagle  comes  across  the  stream,  for  she  is  fully 
as  alert^  as  her  mate.  The  latter  suddenly  shakes  the  whole 
of  his  body,  and  with  a  few  touches  of  his  bill  arranges  his 
plumage.  The  snow-Avhite  swan  is  now  in  sight ;  her  long 
neck  is  stretched  forward ;  her  eye  is  on  the  watch,  vigilant 
as  that  of  her  enemy ;  her  large  wings  seem  with  difficulty 
to  support  the  weight  of  her  body,  although  they  flap  inces- 
santly. She  approaches,  however.  The  eagle  has  marked 
her  for  his  prey.  As  the  swan  is  passing  the  dreaded  pair, 
the  male  bird,  with  an  awful  scream,  starts  from  his  perch  in 
full  preparation  for  the  chase. 

5.  Now  is  the  moment  to  witness  a  display  of  the  eagle's 
powers.  He  glides  through  the  air  like  a  falling  star,  and, 
like  a  flash  of  lightning,  comes  upon  the  timorous  quarry,* 
Avhich  now,  in  agony  and  despair,  seeks,  by  various  manoeu- 
vres, to  elude  the  grasp  of  his  cruel  talons.  It  mounts,  doub- 
les, and  willingly  would  plunge  into  the  stream,  were  it  not 
prevented  by  the  eagle,  which,  knowing  that  the  swan  would 
thus  escape  him,  forces  it  to  remain  in  the  air  by  attempting 
to  strike  it  with  his  talons  from  beneath. 

6.  The  hope  of  escape  is  soon  given  up  by  the  swan.  It 
has  already  become  much  weakened,  and  its  strength  fails  at 
the  sight  of  the  courage  and  swiftness  of  its  antagonist.  Its 
last  gasp  is  about  to  escape,  when  the  ferocious  eagle  strikes 
with  his  talons  the  under  side  of  its  wing,  and,  with  unre- 
sisted power,  forces  the  bird  to  fall  in  a  slanting  direction 
upon  the  land.  There  his  mate  joins  him,  when  the  royal 
pair  turn  the  breast  of  the  luckless  swan  upward,  and  gorge 
themselves  with  gore. 


92  willson's  fourth  EEADER.  Part  II. 

1.  The  eagle  has  great  partiality  for  fish,  and,  in  persuing 
them,  as  he  is  not  a  fisher  himself,  he  displays,  in  a  very  sin- 
gular manner,  the  genius  and  energy  of  his  character.  Ele- 
vated on  the  high  dead  hmb  of  some  gigantic  tree  that  com- 
mands a  view  of  the  neighboring  shore  and  ocean,  he  seems 
calmly  to  contemplate  the  motions  of  the  various  feathered 
tribes  that  pursue  their  busy  avocations^  below — the  snow- 
white  gulls,  slowly  winnowing  the  air ;  trains  of  ducks  stream- 
ing over  the  surface ;  silent  and  watchful  cranes,  intent^  and 
wading ;  clamorous  crows,  and  all  the  winged  multitudes  that 
subsist  by  the  bounty  of  this  vast  liquid  magazine  of  Nature. 

8.  High  over  all  these  hovers  one  whose  action  instantly 
arrests  his  whole  attention.  By  his  wide  curvature  of  wing 
and  sudden  suspension  in  air,  the  eagle  knows  him  to  be  the 
osprey,  or  fish-hawk,  settling  over  some  devoted  victim  of 
the  deep.  His  eye  kindles  at  the  sight,  and,  balancing  him- 
self, with  half-opened  wings,  he  watches  the  result.  Down, 
rapid  as  an  arrow  from  heaven,  descends  the  distant  object 
of  his  attention,  the  roar  of  its  wings  reaching  the  ear  as  it 
disappears  in  the  deep,  making  the  surges  foam  Ground. 

9.  At  this  moment  the  eager  looks  of  the  eagle  are  all  ar- 
dor ;  and,  leveling  his  neck  for  flight,  he  sees  the  fish-hawk 
emerge,  struggling  with  his  prey,  and  mounting  in  the  air 
with  screams  of  exultation.  These  are  the  signal  for  our 
hero,  who,  launching  into  the  air,  instantly  gives  chase,  and 
soon  gains  on  the  fish-hawk ;  each  exerts  his  utmost  to  mount 
above  the  other,  displaying  in  these  manoeuvres  the  most  ele- 
gant and  sublime  aeriaF  evolutions.^ 

10.  The  unencumbered  eagle  rapidly  advances,  and  is  just 
on  the  point  of  reaching  his  opponent,  when,  with  a  sudden 
scream,  probably  of  despair  and  execration,  the  latter  drops 
his  fish  ;  the  eagle,  poising  himself  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  take 
a  more  certain  aim,  descends  like  a  whirlwind,  snatches  it  in 
his  grasp  ere  it  reaches  the  water,  and  bears  his  ill-gotten 
booty  silently  away  to  the  woods.  Audubon  and  Wilson. 


Em-blX'-zonep,  adorned  with  figures;  set  s  Av-o-€A'-TiOTtt  bns^ncs^^etaplo^^m^rit*. 
out  pompously.  ^  In-tknt',  ardcmt;  oagpr. 


2  Ex-panse',  extent  of  R])ace. 

3  A-I.KBT',  watchful ;  vigilant. 
*  Quj.B'-BY,  the  game. 


5  Av-o-€a' 

6  In-tknt',  ardent;  otxgo't 

7  A-ii'-Ki-Ai ,  pertaining  to  the  air  ;  lofty. 

8  Ev-o-Lu'-TiONf,  movements. 


2d  Div.  OP ZOOLOGY. — OKNITIIOLOGY. 


93 


LESSON"  V. 


A 


^^ 


THE  OSPREY,  OR  SEA  EAGLE. 

1 .  Soon  as  the  sun,  great  ruler  of  the  year, 

Bends  to  our  northern  cHmes  his  bright  career, 
And  from  the  caves  of  ocean  calls  from  sleep 
The  finny  shoals^  and  myriads^  of  the  deej); 
When  freezing  tempests  back  to  Greenland  ride, 
And  day  and  night  the  equal  hours  divide ; 
True  to  the  season,  o'er  our  sea-beat  shore, 
The  sailing  osprey  high  is  seen  to  soar, 
With  broad,  unmoving  wing.     Now,  circling  slow. 
He  marks^  each  straggler"^  in  the  deep  below ; 
Sweeps  down  like  lightning !  plunges  with  a  roar ! 
And  bears  his  struggling  victim  to  the  shore. 

Alex.  Wilson. 


2.  Most  awful  is  thy  deep  and  heavy  boom,^ 
Gray  watcher  of  the  waters !     Thou  art  king 


94 


willson's  fourth  reader. 


Part  II. 


Of  the  blue  lake  ;  and  all  the  winged  kind 

Do  fear  the  echo  of  thine  angry  cry. 

How  bright  thy  savage  eye !     Thou  lookest  down, 

And  seest  the  shining  fishes  as  they  glide ; 

And,  poising^  thy  gray  wing,  thy  glossy  beak 

Swift  as  an  arrow  strikes  its  roving  prey. 

Ofttimes  I  see  thee,  through  the  curling  mist, 

Dart,  like  a  spectre'  of  the  night,  and  hear 

Thy  strange,  bewitching  call,  like  the  wild  scream 

Of  one  whose  life  is  perishing  in  the  sea. 

M'Lellan. 


I  ShOal,  a  crowd ;  a  throng. 
3  M\R'-r-AD,  an  immense  number. 
3  Mabks,  seea  ;  notices. 
*  Strao'-glee,  a  wanderer. 


1 3  Boom,  a  hollow  roar  as  of  waves. 

6  Pois'-iNG,  balancing. 

M  Spec'-tre,  a  ghost;  the  appearance  of 

I  dead  person. 


LESSON  VI. 


>^ 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE. 

Bird  of  the  heavens !  whose  matchless  eye 
Alone  can  front  the  blaze  of  day, 

And,  wandering  through  the  radiant^  sky, 
Ne'er  from  the  sunlight  turns  away ; 


2d  DlV.  OF ZOOLOGY. OKNITHOLOGY.  96 

Whose  ample  wing  was  made  to  rise 

Majestic  o'er  the  loftiest  peak, 
On  whose  chill  tops  the  winter  skies, 

Around  thy  nest,  in  tempests  speak — 

2.  What  ranger  of  the  winds  can  dare. 
Proud  mountain  king !  with  thee  compare  ? 
Or  lift  his  gaudier^  plumes  on  high 
Before  thy  native  majesty, 

When  thou  hast  taken  thy  seat  alone, 
Upon  thy  cloud-encircled  throne  ? 

3.  Bird  of  the  sun !  to  thee — to  thee 

The  earliest  tints  of  dawn  are  known, 
And  'tis  thy  proud  delight  to  see 

The  monarch  mount  his  gorgeous  throne ; 
Throwing  the  crimson  drapery  by. 

That  half  impedes  his  glorious  way ; 
And  mounting  up  the  radiant  sky. 

E'en  what  he  is — ^the  king  of  day ! 

4.  Bird  of  Columbia !  well  art  thou 

An  emblem  of  our  native  land ; 
With  unblenched^  front  and  noble  brow, 

Among  the  nations  doomed  to  stand, 
Proud,  like  her  mighty  mountain  woods ; 

Like  her  own  rivers,  w^andering  free ; 
And  sending  forth,  from  hills  and  floods, 

The  joyous  shout  of  liberty! 

5.  Like  thee,  majestic  bird!  like  thee 
She  stands  in  unbought  majesty. 

With  spreading  wings,  untired  and  strong, 
That  dares  a  soaring  far  and  long. 
That  mounts  aloft,  nor  looks  below. 
And  will  not  quail'^  though  tempests  blow. 

C.  "W.  Thompson. 

1  Ra'-di-ant,  beaming  with  brightness.        |3  Un-bi<enchkd',  unstained  ;  unshrinking. 

2  Gati'-di-ek,  more  showy.  |*  Quail,  shrink  back. 


96 


willson's  foueth  keadek; 


Part  II. 


BIRDS  OF  Fl^EY— Continued. 

LESSON  VII. 
VULTURES  AND  OWLS. 

a 


Scale  of  Feet. 


1.  Secretary  Vulture,  Gypogeranus  aerpenfarins.  2.  Turkey  Buzzard,  Catharka 
aura.  3.  Carrion  Crow,  Cathartes  atrattis.  4.  Prgyptiau  Vulture,  Neophron  percnop- 
tenifi.  5.  Condor,  Sarcoramphus  gnjphus.  6.  Bearded  Vulture,  Gypcelus  barbatus. 
7.  California  Vulture,  CatharUs  Cah'fornianus. 

1.  The  Vultures  are,  on  the  whole,  considerably  larger 
than  the  falcon  birds,  but  they  are  much  less  courageous. 
Most  of  them,  unlike  the  falcons,  feed  on  putrid  flesh ;  and 
they  are  generally  protected  by  the  natives  of  the  countries 
which  they  inhabit,  on  account  of  their  utility^  in  disposing 
of  decayed  animal  remains. 

2.  The  beak  of  these  birds  is  long  and  curved,  but  not 
notched ;  and  the  talons,  not  being  required  to  tear  living 
animals,  are  comparatively  weak ;  but  in  order  that  the  parts 
of  the  bird  which  come  in  contact  with  its  offensive  food  may 
not  become  soiled  or  matted,  most  of  the  head  is  naked ;  and 
the  legs,  at  the  lowest  parts,  are  covered  with  scales,  and  not 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 


9i 


with  feathers  as  in  the  eagle.    The  wings  are  strong  and 
large,  and  the  general  plumage  uncommonly  thick  and  coarse. 

3.  Among  the  vultures  of  the  western  continent  may  be 
mentioned  the  condor  of  South  America,  which  is  five  feet  in 
length,  and  the  expanse  of  its  wiugs  fourteen ;  the  California 
vulture,  but  little  less  in  size  than  the  condor ;  the  w^ell  known 
turkey  buzzard  of  our  southern  states ;  and  also  the  black  vul- 
ture, or  carrion  crow  of  the  south,  which  is  found  in  the  streets 
of  cities,  where  it  is  protected,  being  regarded  as  a  kind  of 
scavenger^iphose  labors  are  subservient^  to  the  public  good. 

4.  The  Egyptian  vulture,  sometimes  called  Pharaoh's  chick- 
en, is  abundant  in  Spain  and  on  the  opposite  African  shores. 
The  secretary  vulture,  found  in  Southern  Africa,  is  a  very  *u , 
curious-looking  bird,  which  feeds  exclusively  upon  reptiles  v,,/  / 
and  serpents.     The  bearded  vulture,  or  vulture  of  the  Alps,   j^- 
which  approaches  the  character  of  the  falcons  in  frequently  '"""']/^' 
seizing  live  animals  for  its  prey,  is  about  four  feet  in  length,. 

and  the  largest  bird  of  Europe. 

"  Among  the  barren  Alpine  cliffs  the  bearded  vulture  dwells, 
Who  never  fattens  on  the  prey  which  from  afar  he  smells ; 
But,  patient,  watching  hour  on  horn-,  upon  a  lofty  rock, 
He  singles  out  some  truant  lamb,  a  victim,  from  the  flock." 


Scale  of  Feet. 


1:  Virginia  Homed  Owl,  Bubo  Virginianus.  2.  Little  Screech  Owl,  Bubo  Ado.  3. 
Great  Homed  Owl,  or  Kapjle  Owl,  Bubo  maximus.  4.  Great  Snowy  Owl,  Sumia  mjctea. 
5.  Hawk  Owl,  or  Ram  Owl,  Strix  Americmia. 

5.  The  Owls,  which  also  belong  to  the  birds  of  prey,  are  a 

E 


98 


willson's  foueth  eeader. 


Part  II. 


very  numerous  family,  and  some  of  them  are  found  in  all 
quarters  of  the  globe.  They  feed  on  birds,  small  quadrupeds, 
and  insects,  and  some  species  on  fish.  Those  most  common 
in  this  country  are  the  barred  owl,  which  is  about  eighteen 
inches  in  length ;  the  little  sparrow  owl ;  the  great  northern 
white  owl,  or  snowy  owl;  the  white  or  barn  owl;  and  the 
Virginia  horned  owl.  The  latter,  found  in  almost  every  part 
of  the  United  States,  is  the  one  whose  mournful  Aoo,  hoo^ 
hoo-e  is  so  often  heard  in  the  night  season.  The  eagle  owl 
inhabits  the  great  forests  of  Europe.  ^ 

6.  The  owls  are  mostly  nocturaP  in  their  habits,  remaining 
concealed  by  daylight,  and  coming  forth  at  night  in  pursuit 
of  their  prey.  Their  abodes  are  usually  deep  forests,  old 
ruins,  and  hollow  trees ;  and  this  circumstance,  connected 
with  the  grotesque^  appearance  of  their  shaggy  heads  and 
large  round  eyes,  their  noiseless  flight,  the  dismal  hootings 
of  some,  and  frightful  screechings  of  others,  as  heard  in  the 
silence  and  gloom  of  night,  have  caused  them  to  be  regarded, 
by  the  ignorant  of  all  countries,  with  a  kind  of  superstitious^ 
dread.  The  poets  have  indulged  freely  in  this  general  prej- 
udice; and  in  their  descriptions  of  midnight  storms  and 
gloomy  scenes  of  nature,  the  owl  is  generally  introduced  to 
heighten  the  horror  of  the  picture. 

7.  "In  the  hollow  tree,  in  the  old  gray  tower, 

The  spectral  owl  doth  dwell ; 
Dull,  hated,  despised  in  the  sunshine  hour. 

But  at  dusk  he's  abroad  and  well ! 
Not  a  bird  of  the  forest  e'er  mates  with  him — 

All  mock  him  outright,  by  day ; 
But  at  night,  when  the  woods  grow  still  and  dim, 

The  boldest  will  shrink  away ! 

*^  So,  when  the  night  falls,  and  the  dogs  do  howlj 
Sing  ho  !  for  the  reign  of  the  homed  owl! 
We  know  not  alway 
Who  are  kings  by  day. 
But  the  king  of  the  night  is  the  bold  brown  owlT^ 

Barry  Cornwall. 


1  C-tTl'-i-ty,  usefulnesfl. 

a  S*'Av'-EN-uEK,  oue  who  cleans  the  streets 

of  a  city. 
'  S0B-8EBv'-i-ENT,  conducive. 


4  \o€-tCk'-naIm  pertainiag  to  the  night. 

5  (Jro-tksquk',  oddly  formed  ;  uncouth. 

*  STT-PER-8Ti"-TiotTB,  full  of  idle  fancies  in 
religious  niattera. 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. OKNITHOLOGY. 


99 


LESSON  VIII. 


SONG  OF  THE  OWL. 

1.  Tu  whit!  tu  whoo! — in  my  ancient  hall, 
In  my  old  gray  turret^  high, 
Where  the  moss  is  thick  on  the  crumbling  wall, 
A  king — a  king  reign  I !  >•■> 

Tu  whoo ! 
I  wake  the  wood  with  my  startling  call 
To  the  frighted  passers-by. 


2.  The  ivy-vines  in  the  chink  that  grow, 
Come  clambering  up  to  me ; 
And  the  newt,^  the  bat,  and  the  toad,  I  trow,^ 
A  right  merry  band  are  we. 
Tu  whoo ! 
Oh,  the  coffined  monks*  in  their  cells  below 
Have  no  goodlier  company. 


100 


WIIiLSON'S  FOUETH   EEADEK. 


Pakt  II. 


3.  Let  them  joy  in  their  brilliant  sunlit  skies, 

And  their  sunset  hues,  who  may ; 
But  softer  by  far  than  the  tints  they  prize, 

Is  the  dim  of  the  twihght  gray ! 
Tu  whoo ! 
Oh,  a  weary  thing  to  an  owlet's  eyes 

Is  the  garish^  blaze  of  day. 

4.  When  the  sweet  dew  sleeps  in  the  midnight  cool. 

Some  tall  tree  top  I  win ; 
And  the  toad  leaps  up  on  her  throne-shaped  stool. 

And  our  revels  loud  begin — 
Tu  whoo ! 
While  the  bullfrog  croaks  o'er  his  stagnant  pool, 

Or  plunges  sportive  in. 

5.  As  the  last  lone  ray  from  the  hamlet^  fades 

In  the  dark  and  still  profound, 
The  night-bird  sings  in  the  cloister'''  shades, 

And  the  glow-worm  lights  the  ground — 
Tu  whoo ! 
And  fairies  trip  o'er  the  broad  green  glades,^ 

To  the  firefly  circling  round. 


6. 


Tu  whit !  tu  whoo  !  ^  All  the  livelong  night 

A  right  gladsome  life  lead  we ; 
While  the  starry  ones  from  their  azure  height 

Look  down  approvingly. 
Tu  whoo  I 
They  may  bask^  who  will  in  the  noonday  light. 


But  the  midnight  dark  for  me. 


Mrs.  Hewitt. 


1  TCe'-ebt,  a  littlo  tower;  a  spire  rising 
from  a  building. 

2  Newt,  a  aniall  lizard. 

3  TeOw,  think ;  believe. 

♦  Monk,  one  who  retires  from  the  world, 
and  devotes  himself  to  religion. 


5  Gab'-ish  (or  jrcrfr'-z^A),  dazzling;  gaudy. 

6  IIam'-let,  small  village. 

7  €loi8'-teb,  a  house  inhabited  by  monks  or 
nuns. 

8  Glades,  open  places  in  forests. 

9  Bask,  to  lie  in  warmth ;  be  at  ease. 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 


101 


11.  PEECHINa  OE  SINGING  BIEDS. 

*' If  thou  art  pained  with  the  world's  noisy  stir, 
Or  crazed  with  its  mad  tumults,  and  weighed  down 
With  any  of  the  ills  of  human  life' ; 
If  thou  art  sick  and  weak,  or  mourn'st  the  loss 
Of  brethren  gone  to  that  far  distant  land 
To  which  we  all  do  pass,  gentle  and  poor, 
The  gayest  and  the  gravest,  all  alike' ; 
Then  turn  into  the  peaceful  woods  and  hear 
The  thrilling  music  of  the  forest  birds." — M'Lellan. 

LESSOISr  IX. 
THE  TOOTBED-BILIjS  (DENTIROSTEES). 


Scale  of  Inchta. 


1.  African  Fly-catcher,  Musdcapa  rufiventer,  2.  Mocking-bird,  Thirdus  polyglottua. 
S.  Kingbird,  or  Tyrant  Fly-catcher,  Museimpa  ttjrannus.  4.  White  Plnraed'  African 
Shrike,  Lamms  pluvmtus.  5.  American  Shrike,  Lanius  borealis.  6.  Cedar -bird,  Am- 
pelis  Americana.  7.  Greenlet,  or  Green  Wren,  Muscicapa  cantatrix.  8.  Kobin,  Turdus 
migratorius.    9.  Wood-thrush,  Turdus  melodus. 


1.  The  second  order  of  birds  consists  of  the  Perchers,  or 
sparrow-like  birds,  sometimes  also  called  Singing  Birds^  be- 
cause it  embraces  nearly  all  those  which  have  musical  notes. 


102  willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  ii^ 

These  birds  are  of  smaller  size  than  those  of  the  other  orders, 
and  they  nearly  equal  the  numbers  of  all  the  others. 

2.  As  the  name  Pekchees  indicates,  the  power  of  grasping 
the  twigs  of  trees  and  of  perching^  upon  them  is  a  prominent 
feature  in  the  birds  of  this  order.  The  habitual  residence  of 
most  of  them  is  in  the  woods  or  thickets ;  all  have  the  pow- 
ers of  flight  in  full  perfection ;  and  the  larger  part  feed  upon 
insects,  or  the  seeds  of  vegetables,  which  they  procure  by  the 
beak  alone. 

3.  The  perching  birds  may  be  divided  into  the  following 
four  tribes  or  subdivisions,  founded  on  the  varying  form  of 
the  beak :  the  toothed-bills,  the  cleft-bills,  the  cone-shaped- 
bills,  and  the  slender  or  thin-bills.  As  some  ©f  the  toothed- 
biUs  seize  and  feed  upon  small  living  animals,  they  properly 
come  next  in  order  to  the  birds  of  prey. 

4.  The  toothed-bills  are  so  named  because  they  have  the 
upper  mandible^  notched  on  each  side  near  the  tip,  like  the 
bills  of  the  falcons.  The  principal  birds  included  in  this  di- 
vision are  the  shrikes,  or  butcher-birds;  the  thrushes;  the 
large  family  of  the  warblers,  or  singing  forest  birds;  the  chat- 
terers ;  and  the  fly-catchers.  About  fifty^pecies  of  the  war- 
blers alone,  among  which  are  included  the  bluebird,  yellow- 
bird,  tailor^ird,  the  wagtails,  and  a  host  of  other  summer 
birds,  are  found  on  the  American  continent. 

5.  Among  the  butcher-bii;ds,  the  great  American  shrike, 
which  is  about  ten  inches  in  length,  is  entitled  to  no  common 
degree  of  respect,  as  his  courage  and  intrepidity  are  beyond 
every  other  bird  of  his  size,  the  kingbird  alone  excepted. 
In  defense  of  his  young  he  attacks  the  largest  hawks  or 
eagles  with  a  resolution  truly  astonishing,  so  that  all  of  them 
respect  him,  and  on  all  occasions  decline  the  contest.  The 
shrike  has  a  curious  habit  of  catching  grasshoppers  and  small 
birds,  and  sticking  them  on  a  thorn  or  sharp  stick  before  eat- 
ing them. 

6.  The  thrushes,  which  are  of  a  great  variety  of  colors,  are 
common  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  many  of  them  are  emi- 
nently birds  of  song.  Tlie  wood-thrush  of  America,  which 
is  a  sweet  but  solitary  songster ;  the  mavis,  or  song-thrush  of 
Europe ;  the  English  blackbird,  the  American  robin,  the  Amer- 


2(1  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY.  103 

icaii  mocking-bird,  and  the  English  nightingale,  all  belong  to 
this  family. 

7-         "  With  the  sweet  airs  of  spring  the  robin  comes ; 
Aad  in  her  simple  song  there  seems  to  gush 
A  strain  of  sorrow  when  she  visiteth 
Her  last  year's  withered  nest.    But  when  the  gloom 
Of  the  deep  twilight  falls,  she  takes  her  perch^ 
Upon  the  red-stemmed  hazel's  slender  twig, 
That  overhangs  the  brook,  and  suits  her  song 
To  the  slow  rivulet's  inconstant  chime."* — M'Lellan. 

8.  The  American  mocking-bird,  which  is  nine  aiid  a  half 
inches  in  length,  having  the  upper  parts  of  the  head  and  body 
of  a  dark  gray,  tinged  with  brown,  and  the  lower  parts 
brownish- white,  is  unrivaled  for  his  great  variety  of  song; 
and  by  his  great  powers  of  imitation  he  is  superior  to  any 
bird  that  possesses  its  native  notes  alone. 

9.  "He  often  deceives  the  sportsman,  and  sends  him  in 
search  of  birds  that  perhaps  are  not  within  miles  of  him,  but 
whose  notes  he  exactly  imitates ;  even  birds  are  frequently 
imposed  upon  by  this  admirable  mimic,  and  are  decoyed  by 
the  fancied  calls  of  their  mates,  or  they  dive  with  precipita- 
tion^ into  the  depths  of  thickets  at  the  scream  of  what  they 
suppose  to  be  the  sparrow-hawk. 

10.  "In  confinement  he  loses  little  of  the  power  and  ener- 
gy of  his  song.  He  whistles  for  the  dog ;  Caesar  starts  up, 
wags  his  tail,  and  runs  to  meet  his  master.  He  squeaks  out 
like  a  hurt  chicken,  and  the  hen  hurries  about  with  hanging 
wings  and  bristled  feathers,  clucking  to  protect  her  injured 
brood.  He  repeats  the  tune  taught  him  by  his  master, 
though  of  considerable  length,  fully  and  faithfully.  He  runs 
over  the  quiverings  of  the  canary ,«  and  the  clear  whistlings 
of  the  Virginia  nightingale,  or  redbird,  with  such  superior 
execution  and  effect  that  the  mortified  birds  feel  their  own 
inferiority,  and  become  altogether  silent ;  while  he  seems  to 
triumph  in  their  defeat  by  redoubling  his  exertions." 

11.  Among  the  chatterers,  or  wax- wings,  the  cedar  wax- 
wing,  or  cedar-bird,  is  the  principal  one  known  to  us.  Of  the 
more  numerous  family  of  the  fly-catchers,  the  kingbird,  the 
phebe-bird,  the  redstart,  and  the  greenlets,  which  are  gener- 


104 


WnJiSON'S   FOUETH   KEADEE. 


Pakt  II. 


ally  called  "  fly-catchers,"  are  common  in  this  country ;  but 
the  geographic  range  of  the  true  broad-billed  fly-catchers  is 
almost  confined  to  tropical  regions,  where  insects,  which  con- 
stitute their  principal,  if  not  their  only  food,  are  the  most 
abundant. 


1  PKEcn'-iHG,  sitting  like  a  bird. 

2  Man'-di-ble,  applied  to  the  lower  jaw  of 
the  mammalia,  to  both  jaw3  of  birds,  and 
to  the  upper  pair  of  jawa  in  insects. 


3  Peeoh,  any  thing  on  which  birds  light. 
*  Chime,  murmur ;  musical  harmony. 

5  Pee-oip-i-ta'-tion,  headlong  haste. 

6  €a-na'-ey,  a  bird  from  the  Canary  Islea. 


LESSON  X. 

c-^^y  v*  ^    ^    V 

•!#' 

:% 

'^^, 

^^^^^ 

tsm 

THE  MOCKING-BIRD. 

1.  Eaely  on  a  pleasant  day 
In  the  poet's  month  of  May, 
Field  and  forest  looked  so  fair, 
So  refreshing  was  the  air, 
That,  in  spite  of  morning  dew, 
Forth  I  walked  where  tangling  grew 
Many  a  thorn  and  breezy  bush  ; 
When  the  redbreast  and  the  thrush 
Gayly  raised  their  early  lay. 
Thankful  for  returning  day. 


2d  Div.  or ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  105 

2.  Every  thicket,  bush,  and  tree 
Swelled  the  grateful  harmony : 
As  it  mildly  swept  along, 
Echo  seemed  to  catch  the  song ; 
But  the  plain  was  wide  and  clear 
Echo  never  whispered  near. 
From  a  neighboring  mocking-bird 
Came  the  answering  notes  I  heard 

S.  Soft  and  low  the  song  began : 
I  scarcely  caught  it  as  it  ran 
Through  the  melancholy  trill 
Of  the  plaintive  whippoorwill. 
Through  the  ringdove's  gentle  wail— 
Chattering  jay  and  whistling  quail, 
Sparrow's  twitter,  catbird's  cry, 
Redbird's  whistle,  robin's  sigh  : 
Blackbird,  bluebird,  swallow,  lark. 
Each  his  native  note  might  mark. 

4.  Oft  he  tried  the  lesson  o'er. 
Each  time  louder  than  before. 
Burst  at  length  the  finished  song ; 
Loud  and  clear  it  poured  along ; 
All  the  choir  in  silence  heard. 
Hushed  before  this  wondrous  bird. 
All  transported  and  amazed. 
Scarcely  breathing,  long  I  gazed. 

5.  ^NTow  it  reached  the  loudest  swell ; 

Lower,  lower,  now  it  fell, 

Lower,  lower,  lower  still ; 

Scarce  it  sounded  o'er  the  rill. 

Now  the  warbler  ceased  to  sing; 

Then  he  spread  his  russet  wing, 

And  I  saw  him  take  his  flight 

Other  regions  to  delight. 

J.  R.  Drake. 

E2 


106  willson's  fourth  reader.  Pakt  II. 


LESSON  XL 

THE  BLUEBIRD  (Sialia  Wilsonii). 

1.  The  bluebird,  which  is 
found  in  great  numbers  in  the 
Southern  States  during  winter, 
visits  the  north  in  early  spring, 
frequently  while  the  snow  is  on 
the  ground;  an^  so  fond  is  he 
of  his  old  haunts,^  that  even  in 
mid-winter,  after  a  few  days  of 
mild     weather,    he     reappears 

among  us,  enlivening  even  a  day  of  sunshine  by  his  cheerful 

presence. 

2.  His  fondness  for  his  mate,  and  solicitude^  to  please  her, 
have  often  been  noticed  and  admired.  Says  a  curious  and 
correct  observer:  "He  uses  the  tenderest  expressions,  sits 
close  by  her,  and  sings  to  her  his  most  endearing  warblings. 
When  seated  together,  if  he  espies  an  insect  delicious  to  her 
taste,  he  takes  it  up,  flies  with  it  to  her,  spreads  his  wing  over 
her,  and  puts  it  into  her  mouth.  If  a  rival  makes  his  appear- 
ance, he  attacks  and  pursues  the  intruder  as  he  shifts^  from 
place  to  place,  in  tones  that  bespeak*  the  jealousy  of  his  affec- 
tion ;  conducts  him,  with  many  reproofs,  beyond  the  extremi- 
ties of  his  territory,  and  returns  to  warble  out  his  transports 
of  triumph  beside  his  beloved  mate." 

3.  The  summer  song  of  the  bluebird  is  a  soft,  agreeable 
warble,  usually  accompanied  with  a  gentle  quivering  of  the 
wings;  but  when  the. cold  blasts  of  autumn  threaten  the  ap- 
proach of  winter,  it  changes  to  a  single  plaintive  note,  like  a 
sigh  at  leaving  the  endeared  objects  of  his  northern  home. 
No  wonder  that  the  society  of  the  bluebird  is  courted  by  the 
inhabitants  of  the  country,  and  that  the  farmers  are  so  willing 
to  provide  for  it,  in  some  suitable  place,  a  snug  little  summer- 
liouse,  ready  fitted,  and  rent  free.  For  this  he  more  than  suf- 
ficiently repays  them  by  the  cheerfulness  of  his  song,  and  the . 
multitude  of  injurious  insects  which  he  daily  destroys. 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  107 

4.  "  When  winter's  cold  tempests  and  snows  are  no  more, 

Green  meadows  and  brown  furrow'd  fields  reappearing, 
The  fishermen  hauling  their  nets  to  the  shore, 

And  cloud-cleaving  geese  to  the  north  are  all  steering ; 
When  first  the  low  butterfly  flits  ©n  the  wing, 

When  red  glow  the  maples,  so  fresh  and  so  pleasing, 
O  then  comes  the  bluebird,  the  herald  of  spring ! 

And  hails,  with  his  warblings,  the  charms  of  the  season. 

5.  "He  flits  through  the  orchard,  he  visits  each  tree, 

The  red  flowering  peach,  and  the  apple's  sweet  blossoms. 
The  fruit-bearing  products,  wherever  they  be. 

And  seizes  the  caitiff's*  that  lurk  in  their  bosoms ; 
He  drags  the  vile  grub  from  the  corn  it  devours, 

The  worms  from  their  beds  where  they  riot  and  welter  ;^ 
His  song  and  his  services  freely  are  ours. 

And  all  that  he  asks  is,  in  summer,  a  shelter. 

G.    "But  when  the  gay  scenes  of  the  summer  are  o'er, 

And  autumn  slow  enters,  so  silent  and  sallow, ' 
And  millions  of  warblers  that  charm' d  us  before, 

Have  fled  in  the  train  of  the  sun-seeking  swallow. 
The  bluebird,  forsaken,  yet  true  to  his  home. 

Still  lingers  and  looks  for  a  milder  to-morrow, 
Till,  forced  by  the  rigors  of  winter  to  roam, 

He  sings  his  adieu  in  a  lone  note  of  sorrow. 

7.  "  While  spring's  lovely  season,  serene,  dewy,  warm. 

The  green  face  of  earth,  and  the  pure  blue  of  heaven, 
Or  love's  native  music,  have  power  to  charm. 

Or  sympathy's  glow  to  our  feelings  is  given, 
Still  dear  to  each  bosom  the  bluebird  shall  be  ; 

His  voice,  like  the  thrillings  of  hope,  is  a  treasure ; 
For,  through  bleakest  storms,  if  a  calm  he  but  see, 

He  comes  to  remind  us  of  sunshine  and  pleasure." 

Alex.  Wilson. 

8.  In  his  motions  and  general  character  the  bluebird  has 
great  resemblance  to  the  robin  redbreast  of  Britain,  and  had 
he  the  brown  olive  of  that  bird,  instead  of  his  own  blue,  he 
could  hardly  be  distinguished  from  him.  Like  him  he  is 
known  to  almost  every  child,  and  shows  as  much  confidence 
in  man  by  associating  with  him  in  summer,  as  the  other  by 
his  familiarity  in  winter. 

1  Hattnts  (like  a  in/rtr),  place  of  resort.       *  €ai'-tift,  a  captive  ;  a  rascal." 

2  So-li'-oi-tCi)E,  anxiety.  6  Wkl'-tek,  to  roll  or  wallow. 

'  Shifts,  moves.  7  Pal'-lSw,  having  a  yellow  color,  like  the 

*  Bk-speak',  show  ;  indicate.  color  of  the  leaves  in  autumn. 


108 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH   BEADEE. 


pakt  n. 


PEKCHING  BIRDS— Continued, 

LESSON  xn. 

THE  CLEFT-BILLS  {FISSIROSTRES). 


1.  Night-hawk,  Caprimulgus  Americanus.  2.  Green  Tody,  Todus  viridis.  3.  Bam- 
flwallow,  Hirundo  rustica.  4.  Kingfisher,  Alcedo  alcyon.  5.  Trogon,  Trogon  pavoni- 
tins.  6.  African  Blue-headed  Bee-eater,  Meropa  ceruleo-cephalus.  7.  Koyal  Great-creet, 
Todus  regivs. 

1.  This  division  of  the  perching  birds  is  readily  distin- 
guished from  all  others  by  the  beak,  which  is  short,  but 
broad,  and  very  deeply  cleft,^  so  that  the  opening  of  the 
mouth  is  extremely  wide.  The  principal  home  of  these 
birds  is  in  tropical  countries.  Some  species  are  found  in  the 
temperate  zone  during  the  warm  season  of  the  year,  but  on 
the  approach  of  winter  they  depart  to  more  congeniaP  climes. 
They  have  been  divided  into  the  following  six  families :  Night- 
jars, or  Night-hawks,  Bee-eaters,  Swallows,  Todies,  Trogons, 
and  Kingfishers. 

2.  Among  the  night-jars  are  included  the  common  goat- 
sucker of  Europe,  our  common  night-hawk,  whippoorwill, 
and  chuck-wills-widow,  and  also  a  South  American  night- 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY.  109 

hawk,  known  as  the  guacharo.^  All  these  bh'ds  are  noctur- 
nal in  their  habits,  like  the  ow^ls ;  their  voices  are  often  harsh 
and  strange,  and  that  of  the  chuck-wills-widow  is  seldom 
heard  in  cloudy  weather,  and  never  when  it  rains. 

3.  The  male  of  the  common  night-hawk  is  frequently  seen 
toward  evening  mounting  in  the  air  by  several  quick  move- 
ments of  the  wings,  then  a  few  slower,  uttering  all  the  while 
a  sharp,  harsh  squeak,  till,  having  gained  the  highest  point, 
he  suddenly  dives  head  foremost,  and  with  great  rapidity, 
down  sixty  or  eighty  feet,  wheeling  up  again  as  suddenly, 
and  making  at  the  same  time  a  loud  booming*  sound,  which 
is  probably  caused  by  his  suddenly  opening  his  capacious 
mouth  as  he  passes  rapidly  through  the  air.* 

4.  "  And,  in  mid  air,  the  sportive  night-hawk,  seen 

Flying  a  while  at  random,  uttering  oft 

A  cheerful  cry,  attended  with  a  shake 

Of  level  pinions*  dark ;  but,  when  uptum'd 

Against  the  brightness  of  the  western  sky. 

One  white  plume  shining  in  the  midst  of  each ; 

Then  far  down  diving  with  a  hollow  sound." — C.  Wilcox. 

5.  The  whippoorwill,  which  greatly  resembles  the  night- 
hawk,  is  a  bird  found  only  in  America,  and  is  noted  for  its 
peculiar  song,  which  seems  very  plainly  to  articulate®  the 
syllables  which  compose  its  name.  This  bird  is  first  heard 
in  our  Northern  States  about  the  beginning  of  May,  general- 
ly at  dusk,  and  through  the  evening.  Toward  midnight  it 
generally  becomes  silent,  but  its  notes  burst  forth  again  at 
early  dawn,  and  continue  till  the  beams  of  the  rising  sun 
scatter  the  darkness  that  overhung  the  face  of  Nature. 

6.  "  Lone  whippoorwill. 
There  is  much  sweetness  in  thy  fitfuP  hymn, 
Heard  in  the  drowsy  watches**  of  the  night. 
Ofttimes,  when  all  the  village  lights  are  out, 
And  the  wide  air  is  still,  I  hear  thee  chant^ 
Thy  hollow  dirge,"  like  some  recluse"  who  takes 
His  lodgings  in  the  wilderness  of  woods. 

And  lifts  his  anthem^^  when  the  world  is  still ; 
And  the  dim,  solemn  night,  that  brings  to  man 
And  to  the  herds  deep  slumbers,  and  sweet  dews 

*  This  is  the  opinion  of  Wilson,  the  ornithologist ;  but  Audubon  thinks  the  sound  ia 
produced  by  the  sndden  outspreading  of  the  wings  of  the  bird  to  sirrest  its  rapid  flight. 


110  -vyillson's  fourth  reader.  Part  II. 

To  the  red  roses  and  the  herbs,  doth  find 

No  eye,  save  thine,  a  watcher  in  her  halls. 

I  hear  thee  oft  at  midnight,  when  the  thrush 

And  the  green  roving  linnet  are  at  rest, 

And  the  blithe^ ^  twittering  swallows  have  long  ceased 

Their  noisy  note,  and  folded  up  their  wings." — M'Lellan. 

7.  The  chuck- wills- widow,  which  is  a  near  relative  of  the 
whippoorwill,  although  seldom  found  north  of  Virginia  and 
Tennessee,  is  so  called  from  its  notes,  which  seem  to  articu- 
late the  syllables  of  its  name  with  wonderful  distinctness. 
The  tones  of  its  voice  are  stronger  and  more  full  than  those 
of  the  whippoorwill,  and,  like  the  latter,  it  keeps  up  a  con- 
tinual noise  during  the  evening,  and,  in  moonlight,  through- 
out the  whole  of  the  night.  Neither  this  bird  nor  the  whip- 
poorwill makes  any  nest,  but  both  deposit^*  their  eggs  on 
the  dry  leaves  in  the  woods. 

8.  The  hee-eaters^  which  derive  their  name  from  their  great 
partiality  for  bees  and  wasps,  are  entirely  confined  to  the 
Eastern  hemisphere.  The  swallows^  which  include  the  mar- 
tins, chimney-swallows,  barn-swallows,  bank-swallows,  swifts, 
and  a  few  other  species,  are  a  widely-dispersed  and  well- 
known  family,  resembling  the  night-jars  in  the  deep  clefts  of 
their  bills,  but  differing  from  them  in  being  active  during  the 
day. 

9.  Speaking  of  swallows,  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  observes, 
"The  swallow  is  one  of  my  favorite  birds,  and  a  rival  of  the 
nightingale ;  for  he  glads  my  sense  of  seeing  as  much  as  the 
other  does  my  sense  of  hearing.  He  is  the  joyous  prophet 
of  the  year — the  harbinger  of  the  best  season.  He  lives  a 
life  of  enjoyment  among  the  loveliest  forms  of  Nature.  Win- 
ter is  unknown  to  him ;  and  he  leaves  the  green  meadows  of 
England  in  autumn  for  the  myrtle  and  orange-groves  of  Italy, 
and  for  the  palms  of  Africa." 

10.  A  French  writer,  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  gives  the  fol- 
lowing: account  of  what  fell  under  his  own  observation :  "  I 
observed,"  he  says,  "  a  swallow  which  had  unhappily,  and  I 
can  not  imagine  in  what  manner,  slipped  its  foot  into  a  knot 
of  pack-thread,  the  other  end  of  which  was  attached  to  a 
spout  of  the  college  building.     Its  strength  was  exhausted. 


2d  DiV.  OP ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  Ill 

It  hung  at  the  end  of  the  thread,  uttering  cries,  and  some- 
times raising  itself,  as  if  making  an  effort  to  fly  away. 

11.  "All  the  swallows  in  and  around  Paris,  and  perhaps 
from  places  more  remote,  soon  assembled,  to  the  number  of 
several  thousands.  Their  flight  was  like  a  cloud;  all  utter- 
ing a  cry  of  pity  and  alarm.  After  some  hesitation  and  a 
tumultuous  council,  one  of  them  hit  upon  a  device  for  deliv- 
ering their  companion,  communicated  it  to  the  rest,  and  all 
at  once  began  to  put  it  into  execution. 

12.  "They  arranged  themselves  in  a  long  line,  flew  rapid- 
ly past  the  poor  prisoner,  and,  in  passing,  struck  the  pack  of 
thread  with  their  bills.  These  efforts,  directed  to  one  point, 
were  continued  for  half  an  hour,  when  the  thread  was  sev- 
ered and  the  captive  set  free.  But  the  flock  remained  until 
night,  chattering  continually  in  a  tone  which  no  longer  be- 
trayed anxiety,  and  seeming  to  be  congratulating  each  other, 
and  talking  over  the  story  of  their  achievements."^^ 

13.  The  todies^  which  are  a  small  family  of  beautiful  birds, 
somewhat  resembling  the  kingfishers,  are  found  chiefly  with- 
in the  tropics  of  both  hemispheres.  The  bright  red  spot  on 
the  throat  of  the  green  tody  of  the  West  Indies  is  said  to  at- 
tract insects,  just  as  a  candle  attracts  moths.  The  trogons 
are  also  a  small  family,  but  one  pre-eminent  in  beauty  and 
brilliancy  of  coloring,  which  is  usually  a  metallic  golden-green, 
strongly  contrasted  with  scarlet,  black,  and  brown. 

14.  The  Mngfishers^  which  are  generally  birds  of  gay  plum- 
age, are  distributed  over  the  world ;  but  the  warmer  parts 
of  India,  Africa,  and  South  America  have  the  greatest  share. 
This  bird  delights  in  murmuring  streams  and  falling  wa- 
ters ;  not,  however,  merely  that  they  may  soothe  his  ear, 
but  for  a  gratification  somewhat  more  substantial.  Amid 
the  roar  of  the  cataract,  or  over  the  foam  of  a  torrent,  he  sits 
perched  upon  an  overhanging  bough,  glancing  •his  piercing 
eye  in  every  direction  below  for  his  scaly  prey,  which,  with 
a  sudden  circular  plunge,  he  sweeps  from  its  native  element, 
and  swallows  in  an  instant.  The  kingfisher  has  a  loud  and 
harsh  voice,  and  builds  his  nest  in  holes  which  he  digs  in  the 
banks  of  streams.  When  the  mother-bird  is  disturbed  on 
the  nest,  she  will  frequently  drop  on  the  water,  as  if  severe- 


112 


WILLSON'S   F0T7ETH   HEADER. 


PartII. 


]y  wounded,  and  flutter  as  if  unable  to  rise  from  the  stream, 
in  order  to  induce  the  intruder  to  wade  or  swim  after  her. 

9  Chant,  to  sing. 

10  DiEGE,  a  song  expressing  grief,  as  a  fu- 
neral dirge. 

11  Re-€lCse',  a  hermit. 

12  An'-them,  a  hymn. 

13  Blithe,  meriy;  gay. 
1*  De-po*'-it,  leave;  place. 
15  A-cuikve'-ment8,  great  or  heroic  actions. 


1  €i.EFT,  divided  ;  parted. 

2  €on-6en'-ial,  suitable. 

3  Gua'-cha-bo. 

*  Boom'-ing,  roaring  like  waves. 

5  Pin'-ions  (pin'-yons)^  wings. 

6  ar-tic'-€'-late,  to  utter  distinctly. 
■?  KTt'-ful,  varied;  unsteady. 

**  Watch'-e8,  hours ;  periods. 


LESSON  xni. 

"THE  FOWLS  OF  THE  AIR  SHALL  TEACH  THEE." 

1.  A  SWALLOW,  in  the  spring, 
Came  to  our  grSnary,  and  'neath  the  eaves 
Essayed  to  make  a  nest,  and  there  did  bring 

Wet  earth,  and  straw,  and  leaves. 

2.  Day  after  day  she  toUed 

With  patient  art^ ;  but  ere  her  work  was  crowned', 
Some  sad  mishap  the  tiny  fabric  spoiled, 
And  dashed  it  to  the  ground. 

3.  She  found  the  ruin  wrought ; 

Yet  not  cast  down,  forth  from  her  place  she  flew. 
And  with  her  mate  fresh  earth  and  grasses  brought. 
And  built  her  nest  anew. 

4.  But  scarcely  had  she  placed 
The  last  soft  feather  on  its  ample  floor. 
When  wicked  hand,  or  chance,  again  laid  waste 

And  wrought  the  ruin  o'er. 

5.  But  stiU  her  heart  she  kept. 

And  toiled  again ;  and  last  night,  hearing  calls, 
I  looked,  and  lo !  three  little  swallows  slept 
Within  the  earth-made  walls. 

6.  What  truth  is  here,  O  man'  ? 
Hath  hope  been  smitten  in  its  early  dawn'  ? 
Have  clouds  o'ercast  thy  purpose,  trust,  or  plan'  ? 


Have  faith  and  struggle  on. 


R.  S.  S.  Andros. 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 


113 


LESSON  XIV. 


THE  SWALLOW  PARTY. 

1.  *'  The  welcome  guest  of  settled  spring, 

The  swallow,  too,  has  come  at  last ; 
Just  at  sunset,  when  thrushes  sing, 
I  saw  her  dash  with  rapid  wing. 

And  hail'd  her  as  she  pass'd. 

2.  **  Come,  summer  visitant,  attach 

To  my  reed  roof  your  nest  of  clay, 
And  let  my  ear  your  music  catch, 
Low  twittering  underneath  the  thatch 

At  the  gray  dawn  of  day." — Charlotte  Smith. 

3.  Two  barn  swallows  came  into  our  wood-shed  in  the 
spring-time.  Their  busy,  earnest  twitterings  led  me  at  once 
to  suspect  that  they  were  looking  out  a  building-spot ;  but, 
as  a  carpenter's  bench  was  under  the  window,  and  hammer- 


114  WILLSON's  FOURTH  READER.  Part  IL 

ing,  sawing,  and  planing  were  frequently  going  on,  I  had  lit- 
tle hope  they  would  choose  a  location^  under  our  roof. 

4.  To  my  surprise,  however,  they  soon  began  to  build  in 
the  crotch  of  .1  beam  over  the  open  door-way.  I  was  de- 
lighted, and  spent  much  time  in  watching  them.  It  was,  in 
fact,  a  beautiful  little  drama^  of  domestic  love ;  the  mother- 
bird  was  so  busy  and  important,  and  her  mate  was  so  atten- 
tive. He  scarcely  ever  left  the  side  of  the  nest.  There  he 
was,  all  day  long,  twittering  in  tones  that  were  most  obvious- 
ly the  outpourings  of  love. 

5.  Sometimes  he  would  bring  in  a  straw  or  a  hair  to  be  in- 
terwoven in  the  precious  little  fabric.  One  day  my  attention 
was  arrested  by  a  very  unusual  twittering,  and  I  saw  him  cir- 
cling round  with  a  large  downy  feather  in  his  bill.  He  bent 
over  the  unfinished  nest,  and  ofiered  it  to  his  mate  with  the 
most  graceful  and  loving  air  imaginable ;  and  when  she  put 
up  her  mouth  to  take  it,  he  poured  forth  such  a  gush  of  glad- 
some sound !  It  seemed  as  if  pride  and  affection  had  swelled 
his  heart  till  it  was  almost  too  big  for  his  little  bosom. 

6.  During  the  process  of  incubation^  he  volunteered  to 
perform  his  share  of  household  duty.  Three  or  four  times  a 
day  he  would,  with  coaxing  twitterings,  persuade  his  patient 
mate  to  fly  abroad  for  food;  and  the  moment  she  left  the 
eggs,  he  would  take  her  place,  and  give  a  loud  alarm  when- 
ever cat  or  dog  came  about  the  premises.  When  the  young 
ones  came  forth  he  shared  in  the  mother's  toil,  and  brought 
at  least  half  the  food  for  his  greedy  little  family. 

7.  When  the  young  became  old  enough  to  fly,  the  gravest 
philosopher  would  have  laughed  to  watch  their  manoeuvres. 
Such  chirping  and  twittering!  such  diving  down  from  the 
nest,  and  flying  up  again !  such  wheeling  round  in  circles, 
talking  to  the  young  ones  all  the  while !  such  clinging  to  the 
sides  of  tlie  shed  with  their  sharp  claws,  to  show  the  timid 
little  fledgelings*  that  there  was  no  need  of  falling ! 

8.  For  three  days  all  this  was  carried  on  with  increasing 
activity.  It  was  obviously  an  infant  flying-school.  But  all 
the  talking  and  twittering  were  of  no  avail.  The  little  downy 
things  looked  down,  and  then  looked  up,  and,  alarmed  at  the 
wide  space  around  them,  sank  down  into  the  nest  again. 


2d  Dir.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 


115 


9.  At  length  the  parents  grew  impatient,  and  summoned 
their  neighbors.  As  I  was  picking  up  chips  one  day,  I  found 
my  head  encircled  by  a  swarm  of  swallows.  They  flew  up 
to  the  nest,  and  chattered  away  to  the  young  ones ;  they 
clung  to  the  walls,  looking  back  to  tell  how  the  thing  was 
done ;  they  dived,  and  wheeled,  and  balanced,  and  floated  in 
a  manner  perfectly  beautiful  to  behold. 

10.  The  pupils  were  evidently  much  excited.  They  jump- 
ed up  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  twittered,  and  shook  their 
feathers,  and  waved  their  wings,  and  then  hopped  back  again, 
as  if  they  would  have  said,  "  It  is  pretty  sport,  but  we  can 
not  do  it." 

11.  Three  times  the  neighbors  came  in  and  repeated  their 
graceful  lessons.  The  third  time  two  of  the  young  birds  gave 
a  sudden  plunge  downward,  and  then  fluttered,  and  hopped, 
till  they  alighted  on  a  small  log.  And  O,  such  praises  as 
were  warbled  by  the  whole  troop !  the  air  was  filled  with 
their  joy !  Some  flew  round,  swift  as  a  ray  of  light ;  others 
perched  on  the  hoe-handle  and  the  teeth  of  the  rake ;  multi- 
tudes clung  to  the  wall ;  and  two  were  swinging,  in  the  most 
graceful  style,  on  a  pendent^  hoop.  Never,  while  memory 
lasts,  shall  I  forget  that  swallow  party. 

12.  The  whole  family  continued  to  be  our  playmates  until 
the  falling  leaves  gave  token  of  approaching  winter.  For 
some  time  the  Uttle  ones  came  home  regularly  to  their  nest 
at  night.  Their  familiarity  was  wonderful.  If  I  hung  my 
gown  on  a  nail,  I  found  a  little  swallow  perched  on  the  sleeve. 
If  I  took  a  nap  in  the  afternoon,  my  waking  eyes  were  greet- 
ed by  a  swallow  on  the  bedpost:  in  the  summer  twilight 
they  flew  about  the  sitting-room  in  search  of  flies,  and  some- 
times lighted  on  chairs  and  tables.  But  at  last  they  flew 
away  to  more  genial^  skies,  with  a  whole  troop  of  relations 
and  neighbors.  It  was  painful  to  me  to  think  that  I  should 
never  know  them  from  other  swallows,  and  that  they  would 
have  no  recollection  of  me. 

Mrs.  Child. 


1  Lo-€a'-tion,  situation  ;  building-place. 

2  Dra'-ma,  representation  ;  act  of  a  play. 

3  In-ctt-ba'-tion,  sitting  on   egga  for  the 
purpose  of  hatching  young. 


*  Fledge'-ling,  a  young  bird  j  ust  furnished 
with  feathers. 

5  Penb'-ent,  hanging. 

6  6b'-ni-al,  mild  ;  cheerful :  pleasant. 


116  willson's  FOUETH  EEADEE.  Part  n. 


5^  WMle  coming  from  beyond  the 

^  sea, 

When  flowers  adorn  the  dewy  vale, 
And  blossoms  hang  upon  the  tree. 

2.  Ye  love  the  spots  where  ye  were  reared, 

Where  first  ye  stretched  abroad  your  wings; 
These  places  seem  to  you  endeared, 
Amid  your  many  journeyings. 

3.  And  there  your  little  nests  ye  build. 

And  nurse  with  care  your  tender  brood ; 
And  skimming  o'er  the  lake  and  field. 
Procure  for  them  their  daily  food. 

4.  Oft  have  I  marked  your  rapid  flight, 

Ye  happy  birds !  on  sunny  days. 
When  earth  was  beautiful  and  bright. 
And  warblers  poured  their  sweetest  lays. 

5.  And  I  have  wished  that  I  could  fly 

With  you  afar,  when  winter  lowers, 
To  bask  beneath  a  cloudless  sky. 
Or  roam  among  the  myrtle  bowers. 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY.  117 

6.  And  I  have  wished  to  find  a  nest, 

Where,  undisturbed  by  care  or  strife, 
In  calm  seclusion  I  might  rest. 

And  pass  the  sunny  hours  of  life : — 

7.  Where  I  might  dwell,  till  o'er  my  head 

Age  stretched  its  deepening  clouds  of  gloom, 
And  then  my  wings  I'd  heavenward  spread, 
To  seek  a  land  of  bliss  and  bloom. 

8.  Gay  birds !  ye  visit  us  when  bright 

The  summer  sun  in  glory  shines ; 
But  from  our  fields  ye  take  your  flight 
When  autumn  day  by  day  declines. 

9.  And  so,  like  you,  we  often  find 

That  those,  in  fortune's  golden  day, 
Who  seemed  companions,  loving,  kind, 

When  storms  arise  will  haste  away.  Anon. 


1.  And  is  the  swallow  gone'? 

Who  beheld  it^  ? 
Which  way  sailed  it^  ? 
Farewell  bade  it  none'  ? 

2.  No  mortal  saw  it  go : 

But  who  doth  hear 
Its  summer  cheer 
As  it  flitteth  to  and  fro^  ? 

3.  So  the  freed  spirit  flies ! 

From  its  surrounding  clay 
It  steals  away 
Like  the  swallow  from  the  skies. 

4.  Whither^  ?  wherefore  doth  it  go^  ? 

'Tis  all  unknown^ ; 
We  feel  alone 
That  a  void  is  left  below. 

William  Howitt, 


118 


WILLSON'S   POUETH   KEADEB. 


Part  II. 


PEECHING  BmDS— Continued. 

LESSON  XVI. 
THE  CONE-BILLS  (CONIROSTRES). 


Scale  of  Inches. 

1.  Red  Tanager,  or  Scarlet  Sparrow,  Tanager  rubra.  2.  English  Jay,  Cormis  glanda- 
rius.  3.  Baltimore  Oriole,  Oriolus  Baltimore.  4.  Common  Cross-bill,  Loxia  curviros- 
tra.  6.  Common  Goldfinch,  Fringilla  carduelis.  6.  American  Blue  Jay,  Corvus  cris- 
fatus.  7.  Cardinal  Cirosbeak,  Loxia  cardinalis.  8.  Senegal  Touraco,  Corythaix  Senegct 
lensis.  9.  Raven,  Corvus  corax.  10.  Magpie,  Corvus  pica.  11.  Violet  Plantain-eater, 
Musophaga  violacea.    12.  Meadow  Lark,  Alauda  Magita. 

1.  In  the  third  division  of  the  perch ers  are  the  birds  which 
have  cone-shaped  bills.  Seeds  and  grain  are  the  principal 
food  of  these  birds ;  and  for  picking  these  from  their  fre- 
quently hard  coverings,  as  well  as  for  crushing  hard  seeds, 
their  stout  and  horny  beaks  are  well  fitted.  These  birds 
have  been  divided  into  the  several  families  of  the  Crows,  tho 
Starlings,  the  Finches,  the  Horn-bills,  and  the  Plantain-eaters. 

2.  In  the  crow  family  are  included  the  well-known  raven 
(the  "  corbie"  of  Scotland),  celebrated  from  time  immemorial 
as  a  bird  of  evil  omen ;  that  thief  and  vagabond  the  common 
crow,  and  his  near  cousins  the  rooks,  both  pests  of  the  corn- 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  119 

fields ;  the  European  jackdaw,  the  mischievous  blue  jay,  the 
chattering  magpies,  and  the  nut-crackers.  The  latter  have 
the  most  perfect  of  the  cone-shaped  bills.  The  well-known 
blue  jay,  whose  screaming  voice  sounds  among  his  fellow 
musicians  of  the  woods  like  the  harsh  notes  of  a  trumpeter, 
is  found  only  in  North  America.  A  writer  who  has  well 
described  him  says,  "  He  is  distinguished  as  a  kind  of  beau 
among  the  feathered  tenants^  of  our  woods  by  the  brilliancy 
of  his  dress ;  and,  like  most  other  coxcombs,^  he  makes  him- 
self still  more  conspicuous  by  his  loquacity,^  and  the  address 
of  his  tones  and  gestures." 

3.  The  magpie,  which  is  much  better  known  in  Europe 
than  in  this  country,  is  about  eighteen  inches  in  length,  and 
is  noted  for  his  pilfering  and  restless  habits,  and  noisy  man- 
ners, as  well  as  for  his  gay  plumage,  which  is  a  velvety  black, 
intermingled  with  white,  blue,  and  green.  He  is  easily 
taught  to  imitate  the  human  voice.  This  same  bird  has  been 
found  in  considerable  numbers  in  portions  of  the  country 
west  of  the  Mississippi ;  but  it  has  been  noticed  that  where 
the  magpie  is  found  the  blue  jay  is  unknown,  as  if  the  terri- 
torial boundaries  of  these  two  noisy  and  voracious"^  families 
had  been  mutually  agreed  on. 

4.  Plutarch  tells  us  of  a  magpie  belonging  to  a  barber  at 
Rome  which  could  imitate  almost  every  word  it  heard.  jSome 
trumpets  happened  one  day  to  be  sounded  before  the  sjiop, 
and  for  a  day  or  two  afterward  the  magpie  was  quite  mute, 
and  seemed  pensive  and  melancholy.  All  who  knew  it  were 
greatly  surprised  at  its  silence ;  and  it  was  supposed  that  the 
sound  of  the  trumpets  had  so  stunned  it  as  to  deprive  it  at 
once  of  both  voice  and  hearing. 

5.  It  soon  appeared,  however,  that  this  was  far  from  being 
the  case ;  for,  says  Plutarch,  the  bird  had  been  all  the  time 
occupied  in  profound  meditation,  studying  how  to  imitate  the 
sound  of  the  trumpets ;  and  when  at  last  master  of  it,  the 
magpie,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  its  friends,  suddenly  broke 
its  long  silence  by  a  perfect  imitation  of  the  flourish  of  trum- 
pets it  had  heard,  observing  with  the  greatest  exactness  all 
the  repetitions,  stops,  and  changes.  The  acquisition  of  this 
lesson  had,  however,  exhausted  the  whole  of  the  magpie's 


120 


willson's  fotjeth  beadee. 


PAETn. 


The  common  Starling. 


stock  of  intellect,  for  it  made  it  forget  every  thing  it  had 
learned  before. 

6.  Among  the  starlings  are  included  the  common  and  red- 
winged  starlings,  the 
meadow  starling  or 
meadow  lark,  and  the 
several  species  of 
blackbirds.  Although 
our  meadow  lark  can 
not  boast  the  powers 
of  song  which  distin- 
guish that  "harbin- 
ger of  day,"  the  sky- 
lark of  Europe,  yet  in 
richness  of  plumage, 

as  well  as  in  sweetness  of  voice,  so  far  as  his  few  notes  ex- 
tend, he  is  eminently  its  superior. 

7.  Our  common  blackbird,  called  also  the  purple  grakle,  is 
a  well-known  plunderer  of  corn-fields ;  yet  his  merry  presence 
adds  a  charm  to  the  mellow  days  of  autumn,  and  we  would 
not  wUlingly  part  with  him. 

"  In  the  last  days  of  autumn,  when  the  com 

Lies  sweet  and  yellow  in  the  harvest-field, 
^  And  the  gay  company  of  reapers  bind 

The  bearded  wheat  in  sheaves,  then  peals  abroad 
*  The  blackbird's  merry  chant.     I  love  to  hear, 

Bold  plunderer,  thy  mellow  burst  of  song 

Float  from  thy  watch-place  on  the  mossy  tree, 

Close  by  the  corn-field  edge." 

8.  In  the  group  of  starlings  are  also  included  the  orioles, 
or  hang-nests,  of  which  the  Baltimore  oriole,  also  known  as 
the  golden  robin,  firebird,  and  fire  -  hangbird,  is  the  most 
noted.  The  head,  back,  and  wings  of  the  oriole  are  black, 
and  the  lower  parts  and  breast  of  a  golden  orange.  In  con- 
structing his  hanging  nest,  the  oriole  displays  great  ingenui- 
ty in  using  the  best  materials  which  he  can  procure;  and 
skeins  of  stolen  silk  and  thread  are  frequently  found  inter- 
woven in  the  fabric. 

9.  "High  on  yon  poplar,  clad  in  glossiest  green, 

The  orange  black-capped  Baltimore  is  seen ; 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY.  121 

The  broad,  extended  boughs  still  please  him  best ; 
Beneath  their  bending  skirts  he  hangs  his  nest ; 
There  his  sweet  mate,  secure  from  every  harm. 
Broods  o'er  her  spotted  store,  and  wraps  them  warm : 
Lists  to  the  noontide  hum  of  busy  bees, 
Her  partner's  mellow  song,  the  brook,  the  breeze ; 
These  day  by  day  the  lonely  hours  deceive, 
From  dewy  morn  to  slow  descending  eve. 

1 0.  Two  weeks  elapsed,  ^  behold !  a  helpless  crew 
Claim  all  her  care,  and  her  affection  too; 
On  wings  of  love  the  assiduous®  nurses  fly ; 
Flowers,  leaves,  and  boughs  abundant  food  supply. 
Glad  chants  her  guardian  as  abroad  he  goes, 
And  waving  breezes  rock  them  to  repose." 

11.  The  finches,  which  are  the  smallest  of  the  perchers,  are, 
for  the  most  part,  excellent  songsters.  In  this  numerous 
family  are  found  the  weaver  birds,  celebrated  for  their  curi- 
ous hive-shaped  nests,  the  buntings,  and  snowbirds,  the  lat- 
ter visiting  us  in  winter  only  from  the  frozen  regions  of  the 
north,  the  indigo-bird,  the  hawfinch,  groundfinch,  our  com- 
mon Canary  bird,  and  the  American  yellow-bird,  known  also 
as  the  thistle-finch  or  goldfinch. 

"I  love  to  see  the  little  goldfinch  pluck 
The  seed  from  thistle's  tuft,  and  twit,  and  twit ; 
And  then,  in  some  gay  bower  of  blossoms  perched, 
Trim  his  gay  suit,  and  pay  us  with  a  song : 
/  would  not  hold  him  prisoner  for  the  world. " 

12.  In  the  same  group  is  found  the  English  chaffinch, 
which  has  been  described 

"  As  brisk,  as  merry,  and  as  loved  a  bird 
As  any  in  the  fields  and  woodlands  heard." 
Here  are  also  found  the  cross-bills,  the  linnets,  and  many  oth- 
ers that  are  often  called  sparrows,  among  which  are  the  song- 
sparrow  and  the  well-known  chipping-bird.     In  this  goodly 
company  we  also  place  the  English  skylark : 

"  Shrill- voiced  and  loud,  the  messenger  of  morn, 
Ere  yet  the  shadows  fly,  he,  mounted,  sings 
Amid  the  dawning  clouds." 

"Type  of  the  wise,  who  soar,  but  never  roam ; 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  heaven  and  home." 

13.  The  horn-bills  and  plantain-eaters  are  mostly  birds  of 

F 


122 


WnXSON'S   FOUETH   READEE. 


Pabt  II. 


large  size,  confined  to  Africa,  India,  and  the  adjacent  islands. 
Among  the  plantain-eaters  are  several  species  of  the  touracos, 
which  have  great  brilliancy  of  plumage,  elegance  of  form, 
and  grace  of  motion.  It  has  been  said  of  the  violet  plantain- 
eater,  that  "  while  other  birds  are  pretty,  handsome,  splendid, 
gorgeous,  beautiful,  the  coloring  of  the  plantain-eater  is  truly 
regalP  The  engraved  picture  of  this  bird,  without  its  color- 
ing, conveys  a  very  inadequate"^  idea  of  its  beauty. 


1  Ten'-ants,  inhabitants. 

2  €6x'-€0mb,  a  fop ;  a  vain,  showy  fellow. 

3  Lo-QUAo'-i-TY,  talkativeness. 

*  Vo-ra'-cio08,  greedy  for  eating ;  hungry. 


5  E-i.ap8'ed,  passed  by. 

6  As-sib'-d-otjs,  attentive  ;  careful. 

7  In-ad'-e-quate,  insufficient ;  imperfect. 


LESSON  XYII. 

THE  SNOWBIRD  (Fringilla  Hyemalis). 

1.  The  well-known  snowbird  is 
one  of  our  visitants  from  the  frozen 
regions  of  the  north,  coming  even 
from  beyond  the  arctic  circle,  and 
spreading  over  the  United  States 
in  small  flocks  at  the  beginning  of 
winter.  At  first  they  hover  around 
the  borders  of  woods ;  but  as  the 
weather  sets  in  colder,  they  approach  the  farm-houses  and 
villages  in  diligent  search  oi  food. 

2.  Their  increased  activity  on  such  occasions  is  generally  a 
Bure  prognostic^  of  a  storm.  On  the  first  indications  of  spring 
many  of  them  set  out  on  their  return  to  the  north,  while  oth- 
ers first  visit  high  ranges  of  mountains,  where  they  build  their 
nests  and  rear  their  young  previous  to  their  departure.  The 
plumage  of  the  snowbird  undergoes^  considerable  changes. 
The  snow-bunting  is  a  bird  somewhat  similar  to  this,  but  has 
more  pointed  wings.  The  following  lines  to  the  snowbird 
contain  both  poetic  and  moral  beauty : 

3.  "  Oh  I  what  will  become  of  thee,  poor  little  bird  ? 
The  muttering  storm  in  the  distance  is  heard ; 
The  rough  winds  are  waking,  the  clouds  growing  black, 
They'll  soon  scatter  snow-flakes  all  over  thy  back  I 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY.  123 

From  what  sunny  clime  hast  thou  wandered  away  ? 
And  what  art  thou  doing  this  cold  winter  day  ? 

"  *  I'm  picking  the  gum  from  the  old  peach-tree ; 
The  storm  doesn't  trouble  me.     Chee,  dee,  dee. ' 

4.      "But  what  makes  thee  seem  so  unconscious  of  care  ? 
The  brown  earth  is  frozen,  the  branches  are  bare : 
And  how  canst  thou  be  so  light-hearted  and  free,    . 
As  if  danger  and  suffering  thou  never  should'st  sec, 
When  no  place  is  near  for  thy  evening  nest, 
No  leaf  for  thy  screen, ^  for  thy  bosom  no  rest? 

*'  'Because  the  same  hand  is  a  shelter  to  me, 
That  took  off  the  summer  leaves.     Chee,  dee,  dee. ' 

6.      "But  man  feels  a  burden*  of  care  and  of  grief, 

While  plucking  the  cluster  and  binding  the  sheaf. 
In  the  summer  we  faint,  in  the  winter  we're  chilled, 
With  ever  a  void*  that  is  yet  to  be  filled. 
We  take  from  the  ocean,  the  earth,  and  the  air, 
Yet  all  their  rich  gifts  do  not  silence  our  care. 

"  'A  very  small  portion  sufficient  will  be. 
If  sweetened  with  gratitude.     Chee,  dee,  dee.' 

6.  "I  thank  thee,  bright  monitor  f  what  thou  hast  taught 

Will  oft  be  the  theme^  of  the  happiest  thought  ; 
.   We  look  at  the  clouds;  while  the  birds  have  an  eye 
To  Him  who  reigns  over  them,  changeless  and  high. 
And  now,  little  hero,  just  tell  me  thy  name. 
That  I  may  be  sure  whence  my  oracle®  came. 

"  'Because,  in  all  weather,  I'm  merry  and  free. 
They  call  me  the  Winter  King.     Chee,  dee,  dee.' 

7.  "But  soon  there'll  be  ice  weighing  down  the  light  bough, 

On  which  thou  art  flitting  so  playfully  now ; 

And  though  there's  a  vesture^  well  fitted  and  warm. 

Protecting  the  rest  of  thy  delicate  form. 

What,  then,  wilt  thou  do  with  thy  little  bare  feet. 

To  save  them  from  pain,  'mid  the  frost  and  the  sleet  ? 

"  'I  can  draw  them  right  up  in  my  feathers,  you  see. 
To  warm  them,  and  fly  away.     Chee,  dee,  dee. '  " 

Miss  Gould. 


Pkog-mos'-tic,  a  sign  bj-  •vvliich  a  future 

event  may  be  known. 

Un-deb-goes',  passes  through. 

StTREEN,  that  which  shelters  from  danger. 

BCr'-den,  load ;  -weight. 

VoiP,  want ;  longing. 


6  M6n'-i-toe,  one  who  warns  of  faults  or  iu- 

forms  of  duties. 
■'  Theme,  subject. 

8  or'-a-cle,  a  wise  saying  of  groat  author- 
ity. 

9  Vest'-xjee,  garment 


124  willson's  fotjeth  keadek.  PaetII. 


LESSON  xvin. 

THE  SONG-SPARROW  {Fringilh  Melodia), 

1.  "Of  all  our  sparrows,  the 
song-sparrow,  or  melodious  finch, 
is  the  most  numerous,  the  most 
generally  diifused  over  the 
United  States,  and  by  far  the 
earliest,  sweetest,  and  most  last- 
ing songster.  It  is  the  first  sing- 
ing bird  of  spring,  taking  pre- 
cedence^ even  of  the  bluebird,  and  it  often  remains  until  the 
depth  of  winter.  The  notes  or  chant  of  its  song  are  short, 
but  very  sweet,  resembling  the  beginning  of  the  canary's 
song.  It  usually  builds  its  nest  on  the  ground,  under  a  tuft 
of  grass.  As  far  south  as  Louisiana  it  rears  three  broods  in 
one  season ;  and,  unlike  most  other  birds,  it  builds  a  new  nest 
for  each." — Wilson.  It  is  usually  found  in  company  with 
the  chipping-bird,  and  birds  of  that  class.  It  seems  to  repre- 
sent, in  America,  the  house-sparrow  of  Europe,  but  is  less 
bold  and  crafty  than  the  latter  bird.  The  following  tribute 
to  the  song-sparrow  is  full  of  sentiment  and  beauty : 

2.  "  Joy  fills  the  vale ; 

With  joy  ecstatic^  quivers  every  wing, 
As  floats  thy  note  upon  the  geniaP  gale, 
Sweet  bird  of  spring ! 

3.  ♦*  The  violet 

Awakens  at  thy  song,  and  peers*  from  out 
Its  fragrant  nook,  as  if  the  season  yet 
Remained  in  doubt ; 

4.  **  While  from  the  rock 

The  columbine  its  crimson  bell  suspends, 
That  careless  vibrates,^  as  its  slender  stalk 
The  zephyr^  bends. 

6.  "  Say!  when  the  blast 

Of  winter  swept  our  whitened  plains — what  clime, 
What  sunnier  realms  thou  charmedst,  and  how  was  past 
The  joyous  time  ? 


2d  Div.  OP ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY.  125 

6.  "  Did  the  green  isles 

Detain  thee  long  ?  or,  'mid  the  palmy  groves 
Of  the  bright  south,  where  nature  ever  smiles, 
Didst  sing  thy  loves  ? 

7.  "  Oh,'  well  I  know 

Why  thou  art  here  thus  soon,  and  why  the  bowers 
So  near  the  sun  have  lesser  charms  than  now 

Our  land  of  flowers :  • 

8.  *'  Thou  art  returned 

On  a  glad  errand — to  rebnild  thy  nest, 
And  fan  anew  the  gentle  fire  that  burned 
"Within  thy  breast ! 

9.  "  And  thy  wild  strain, 

Poured  on  the  gale,  is  love's  transportmg  voice — 
That,  calling  on  the  plumy"'  choir^  again. 
Bids  them  rejoice. 

10.  "  Nor  calls  alone 

To  enjoy,  but  bids  improve  the  fleeting  hour — 
Bids  all  that  ever  heard  love's  witthing  tone. 
Or  felt  his  power. 

11.  "The  poet,  too, 

It  soft  invokes'  to  touch  the  trembling  wire  ;^^ 
Yet  ah !  how  few  its  sounds  shall  list,  how  few 
His  song  admire  I 

12.  "  But  thy  sweet  lay. 

Thou  darling  of  the  spring  !  no  ear  disdains ; 

Thy  sage  instructress.  Nature,  says,  'Be  gay!' 

And  prompts  thy  strains." 

13.  "Oh,  if  I  knew 

Like  thee  to  sing — like  thee  the  heart  to  fire — 
Youth  should  enchanted  throng,  and  beauty  sue 
To  hear  my  lyre.'* 

H.  "  Oft  as  the  year 

In  gloom  is  wrapped,  thy  exile  I  shall  mourn — 
Oft  as  the  spring  returns,  shall  hail  sincere 

Thy  glad  return."  IT.  Pickeking. 


1  Pee-oed'-enob,  the  act  or  state  of  being 
first. 


f  PttJM'-Y,  feathered. 

8  €hoib  (kwlre),  singers. 

9  Tn-voke',  call  upon. 
0  Wire,  here  used  for  stringed  instrument 


2  E€-8tat'-ic,  delightful  beyond  measure. 

3  6e'-ni-al,  enlivening;  cheerful. 

*  PBEUSjpeeps  forth.  I     of  music. 

*  Vi'-BEATES,  moves  to  and  fro.  pi  Strains,  songs, 

«  Zeph'-yr,  a  soft  mild  breeze.  I"  Lyke,  a  kind  of  harp. 


126  WILLSON'S  FOUETH  BEADEB.  Pakt  II. 


LESSON  XIX. 
THE  ENGLISH  SKYLAEK. 

1.  Bird  of  the  wilderness, 
Blithesome^  and  cumberless,^ 

Sweet  be  thy  matin^  o'er  moorland*  and  lea  I^ 

Emblem  of  happiness, 

Blest  is  thy  dwellmg-place — 
O,  to  abide  in  the  desert  with  thee ! 

2.  Wild  is  thy  lay,^  and  loud, 
Far  in  the  downy  cloud. 

Love  gives  it  energy,  love  gave  it  birth, 

Where  on  thy  dewy  wing — 

Where  art  thou  journeying  ? 
Thy  lay  is  in  heaven,  thy  love  is  on  earth. 

3.  O'er  felP  and  fountain  sheen,^ 
O'er  moor  and  mountain  green. 

O'er  the  red  streamers  that  herald  the  day. 

Over  the  cloudlet  dim. 

Over  the  rainbow's  rim. 
Musical  cherub,  soar,  singing  away ! 

4.  Then,  when  the  gloaming^  comes, 
Low  in  the  heather^o  blooms. 

Sweet  will  thy  welcome  and  bed  of  love  be ! 

Emblem  of  happiness, 

Blest  is  thy  dwelling-place — 
O,  to  abide  in  the  desert  with  thee ! 

James  Hogg. 


1  ■RLTTira'-86MK,  gay;  cheerful. 

2  €CM'-nEE-LE88,  free ;  light ;  airy. 

3  Mat'-in,  morning  song. 

♦  Moob'-land,  a  marshy  tract. 
6  Lka,  a  meadow  or  plain.  ■     which  is  abundant  in  t^cotland, 

•  Lay,  a  song.  I 


7  Fkll,  a  barren  or  stony  hilL 

8  Sheen,  bright ;  glittering. 

9  GlOam'-ino,  evening  twilight  (Scottioh). 
10  IIeath'-kr,  pertaining  to  the  heath  plant, 


3d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 


127 


LESSON  XX. 


THE  LARK  AND  THE  ROOK. 

1.  *'  GooD-isriGHT,  Sir  Rook!"  said  a  little  lark, 
"  The  daylight  fades — it  will  soon  be  dark  ; 
I've  bathed  my  wings  in  the  sun's  last  ray, 
I've  sung  my  hymn  to  the  dying  day ; 

So  now  I  haste  to  my  quiet  nook^ 

In  yon  dewy  meadow — good-night,  Sir  Rook." 

2.  "  Good-nightj  poor  lark !"  said  his  titled  friend, 
With  a  haughty  toss  and  a  distant  bend ; 

"  I  also  go  to  my  rest  profound, 

But  not  to  sleep  on  the  cold,  damp  ground ; 

The  fittest  place  for  a  bird  like  me 

Is  the  topmost  bough  of  yon  tall  pine-tree. 

3.  "  I  opened  my  eyes  at  peep^  of  day, 
And  saw  you  taking  your  upward  way. 
Dreaming  your  fond  romantic  dreams. 
An  ugly  speck  in  the  sun's  bright  beams ; 
Soaring  too  high  to  be  seen  or  heard — 
And  said  to  myself.  What  a  foolish  bird  ! 


128  willson's  fourth  eeadee.  Part  II. 

4.  "  I  trod  the  park  with  a  princely  air ; 
I  fiU'd  my  crop  with  the  richest  fare ; 
I  caw'd^  all  day  'mid  a  lordly  crew, 

And  I  made  more  noise  in  the  world  than  you ! 

The  sun  shone  full  on  my  ebon*  wing ; 

I  looked  and  wondered — good-night,  poor  thing !" 

5.  "  Good-night,  once  more,"  said  the  lark's  sweet  voice, 
"  I  see  no  cause  to  repent  my  choice ; 

You  build  your  nest  in  the  lofty  pine. 
But  is  your  slumber  more  soft  than  mine  ? 
You  make  more  noise  in  the  world  than  I, 
But  whose  is  the  sweeter  minstrelsy  ?"^ 

Wayside  Gatherings. 

1  Nook,  corner.  j*  £b'-on,  black. 

>  Pbbp,  dawn.  P  MTn'-stkel-sy,  singing.    The  occupatioa 

'  €aw,  to  cry  like  a  crow,  rook,  or  raven.     |     of  a  musical  performer. 


LESSON  XXI. 

BIRDS  IN  SUMMER. 

1.  flow  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be, 
Flitting  about  in  each  leafy  tree ; 

In  the  leafy  trees,  so  broad  and  tall. 

Like  a  green  and  beautiful  palace  hall. 

With  its  airy  chambers,  light  and  boon, 

That  open  to  sun,  and  stars,  and  moon. 

That  open  unto  the  bright  blue  sky, 

And  the  frolicsome  winds  as  they  wander  by ! 

2.  What  a  joy  it  must  be,  like  a  living  breeze. 
To  flutter  about  'mong  the  flowering  trees ; 
Lightly  to  soar,  and  to  see  beneath 

The  wastes  of  the  blossoming  purple  heath, 
And  the  yellow  furze,  like  fields  of  gold, 
Th^t  gladden  some  fairy  region  old ! 
On  mountain  tops,  on  the  billowy  sea. 
On  the  leafy  stems  of  the  forest  tree. 
How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be ! 

Mart  Howitt. 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 


129 


THE  PEECHING  BIRDS— Continued. 

LESSON  XXII. 
THE  THIN-BILLS  {TENUIROSTRES). 


Scale  of  Inches. 

1.  Purple  Long-tailed  Sunbird,  Nectarinea  platura.  2.  Emerald  Bird  of  Paradise, 
Paradisea  apoda.  3.  Stokes's  Humming-bird,  Trochilus  Stokesii.  4.  Nepaul  Sunbird, 
Nectarinea  Nepalensis.  5.  Malachite  S.  B.,  Nectarinea  famosa.  6.  Vieillot's  II.  B., 
Trochilus  chalybeus.  7.  Tufted-necked  H.  B.,  Trochilus  omatus.  8.  Hoopoe,  Upupa 
epops.  9.  Ked-throated  H.  B.,  Trochilus  colubris.  10.  Amethyst-throated  S.  B.,  Nec- 
tarinea  amethystina.    11.  Topaz-throated  H.  B.,  Trochilus  pellu. 

1.  The  thin-billed  birds  have  been  considered  by  an  em- 
inent naturalist^  "  the  most  interesting  of  the  animal  world," 
as  the  smallest  birds  and  the  most  brilliantly  adorned  are  con- 
tained in  this  group.  Here  are  found  the  hoopoes,  the  del- 
icate humming-birds,  the  sunbirds  of  the  torrid  zone,  and  the 
far-famed  birds  of  Paradise. 

2.  The  hoopoes,  which  are  a  group  of  brilliant  African 
birds,  occasionally  ieen  in  Europe,  are  not  found  in  this  coun- 
try. One  of  these  birds,  which  is  of  a  reddish-gray  and  black 
color  above,  and  white  below,  with  an  ample  crest  of  orange- 
brown  feathers,  strays  occasionally  to  the  British  isles,  where 
it  attracts  considerable  attention.     An  African  species,  not 

F2 


130  willson's  fourth  EEADEK.  Paet  II. 

found  in  Europe,  is  said  to  glitter  in  the  sunlight  with  the 
most  brilliant  hues  of  azure^  and  emerald^  green. 

3.  The  Humming-birds,  of  which  more  than  a  hundred 
species  are  known  to  exist,  are  wholly  confined  to  the  Amer- 
ican continent  and  the  adjacent  islands.  These  beautiful 
"flower  birds,"  "the  jewels  of  ornithology,"  have  excited 
the  admiration  of  all  who  have  observed  them,  by  their  del- 
icate forms  and  the  dazzling  splendor  of  their  plumage. 

"  The  humming-bird !  the  humming-bird  I 
So  faiiy-like  and  bright ; 
It  lives  among  the  sunny  flowers, 

A  creature  of  delight." — Mrs.  Howitt. 

They  are  the  smallest  of  the  feathered  races,  some  species 
being  exceeded  in  size  and  weight  by  several  of  the  insect 
tribe. 

4.  These  fairy  birds  swarm  in  the  tropical  forests  of  South 
America,  fairly  covering  the  dense  growth  of  wild  flowers, 
whose  blossoms  only  give  way  in  beauty  to  the  sparkling 
tints  of  their  airy  tenants. 

"Like  fairy  sprites,*  a  thousand  birds 
Glance  by  on  golden  wing ; 
Birds  lovelier  than  the  lovely  hues 
Of  the  bloom^  wherein  they  sing." 

They  also  abound  in  gardens,  and  seem  to  delight  in  the  so- 
ciety of  man,  becoming  familiar  and  destitute  of  fear,  hovering 
near  a  shrub  in  bloom  while  the  flowers  are  plucked  from 
the  opposite  side. 

6.  Only  three  or  four  species  of  humming-birds  are  found 
within  the  limits  of  the  United  States,  and  of  these  the  red- 
throated,  or  northern  humming-bird,  well  known  for  its 
golden-green  back,  purple  wings,  and  ruby^-colored  throat,  is 
the  most  common.  It  is  three  inches  and  a  half  long  from 
the  tip  of  its  bill  to  the  end  of  its  tail.  It  is  often  seen  hover- 
ing among  the  arbors  of  honeysuckles  and  beds  of  flowers, 
poising"^  itself  in  the  air  for  the  space  of  tT^o  or  three  seconds, 
with  a  murmuring  noise  made  by  the  rapid  motion  of  its 
scarcely  visible  wings,  thrusting  its  long  tubular  tongue  into 
the  flowers  in  search  of  food,  and  then  suddenly  darting  off" 
with  a  rapidity  so  great  that  the  eye  can  not  follow  it. 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENTTHOLOGY.  131 

6.  "  When  moming  dawns,  and  the  bless'd  sun  again 

Lifts  his  red  glories  from  the  eastern  main,^ 
Then  round  our  woodbines,  wet  with  glittering  dews. 
The  flower-fed  humming-bird  his  round  pursues ; 
Sips  with  inserted  tube  the  honeyed  blooms, 
And  chirps  his  gratitude  as  round  he  roams ; 
While  richest  roses,  though  in  crimson  dress'd, 
Shrink  from  the  splendor  of  his  gorgeous  breast. 

7.  "  The  pui-ple  amethyst,^  the  emerald's  green, 

Contrasted  mingle  with  the  ruby's  sheen, 

While  over  all  a  tissue  is  put  on 

Of  golden  gauze,  by  fairy  fingers  spun. 

What  heavenly  tints  in  mingled  radiance^"  fly! 

Each  rapid  movement  gives  a  different  dye ;" 

Like  scales  of  burnish'd  geld  they  dazzling  show, 

Now  sink  to  shade,  now  like  a  furnace  glow." 

8.  Humming-birds  were  long  supposed  to  feed  only  upon 
the  honey  or  sweet  juices  of  flowers,  but  later  observations 
have  proved  that  they  feed  upon  insects  also.  The  females 
are  without  the  splendid  plumage  of  the  males,  and  are 
clothed  in  modest  dress.  The  nests  of  the  several  species 
vary  greatly  in  form  and  structure ;  but  in  all  they  are  made 
of  the  softest,  warmest,  and  most  delicate  materials. 

9.  The  SuNBiEDS,  so  called  fi'QM^  their  splendid  glossy 
plumage,  which  appears  really  gorgeous  when  played  upon 
by  the  sunbeams,  are  found  chiefly  in  the  tropical  regions  of 
Asia  and  Africa,  although  a  few  species  occur  in  South  Amer- 
ica and  the  adjacent  islands.  The  appearance  which  these 
birds  present  has  been  thus  described : 

"Each  spangled^"  back  bright  sprinkled  specks  adorn; 
Each  plume  imbibes  the  rosy- tinctured  morn ; 
Spread  on  each  wing  the  florid  seasons  glow. 
Shaded  and  verged  with  the  celestial  bow ;" 
Where  colors  blend  an  ever-varying  dye. 
And,  wanton,^*  in  their  gay  exchanges  vie."^^ 

10.  The  birds  of  Paradise,  which  are  mostly  natives  of 
New  Guinea,  include  some  of  the  most  singular  and  magnifi- 
cent of  the  feathered  tribes.  The  emerald  bird  of  Paradise, 
which  is  about  the  size  of  a  common  pigeon,  is  the  one  best 
known,  and  is  said  to  surpass  all  other  birds  in  its  beauty  of 
form,  and  the  vivid  and  changing  tints  of  its  plumage. 


132  willson's  fourth  readee.  PaktII. 

» 

"Bright  in  the  orient"  realms  of  morn, 
All  beauty's  richest  hues  adorn 

The  bird  of  Paradise." — Hemans. 

Its  body,  breast,  and  lower  parts  are  of  a  deep  rich  brown ; 
the  forehead  is  velvety  black,  spotted  with  green;  the  head 
yellow ;  the  throat  of  a  rich  golden  green ;  the  sides  of  the 
tail  of  a  golden  yellow ;  in  addition  to  which  there  are  two 
long  thread-like  feathers  which  extend  from  the  tail  nearly 
two  feet  in  length. 

11.  Of  these  long  and  beautiful  feathers  the  bird  is  so  proud 
that  it  will  not  suffer  the  least  speck  of  dirt  to  remain  on 
them ;  and  it  is  constantly  examining  its  plumage  to  see  that 
there  are  no  spots  on  it.  In  its  wild  state  this  bird  always 
flies  and  sits  with  its  face  to  the  wind,"lest  its  elegant  plumes 
should  be  disarranged.  The  female  is  without  the  long  float- 
ing plumes  of  the  male,  and  her  colors  are  less  brilliant. 

12.  But,  although  Nature  has  robed  in  beauty  the  birds  of 
the  torrid  zone,  she  has  denied  them  the  charms  of  song, 
while,  with  a  wise  compensation,"  she  has  given  the  latter  to 
the  more  modest-robed  denizens^^  of  colder  climes.  Thus, 
while  prodigaP^  of  her  gifts,  she  bestows  them  with  a  frugapo 
hand :  she  scatters  bles«||gs  upon  all,  but  gives  not  to  each 
the  same  tokens  of  her  f^or. 

"Wide  o'er  the  winding  umbrage^^  of  the  floods, 
Like  vivid  blossoms  glowing  from  afar, 
Thick  swarm  the  brighter  birds.    For  Nature's  hand, 
That  with  a  sportive  vanity  has  decked 
The  plumy  nations,  there  her  gayest  hues 
Profusely  pours.     But,  if  she  bids  them  shine, 
Arrayed  in  all  the  beauteous  beams  of  day, 
Yet  frugal  still,  she  humbles  them  in  song.'' — Thomson. 

1  NIt'-c-kai--i8T,  one  who  studies  natural! n  Dye,  hue;  color. 

history.  i^  Span'-gled,  covered  with  brilliant  spotfc 

2  az'-Cbe,  the  fine  blue  color  of  the  sky.  or  epangles. 

3  fiM'-E-RALD,  a  preciouB  stone  of  a  green  '^  H5w,  the  rainbow, 
color. 

*  RpeTte,  a  spirit. 

*  Bloom,  blossoms ;  flowers. 

6  Ru'-BY,  red. 

7  Pois'-iNG,  balancing. 

8  Main,  the  sea. 

9  am'-e-tht8t,  a  precious  stone  of  a  bluish 
violet  color. 

10  Ki'-Di-ANOE,  vivid  brightueaa. 


*  Wan'-ton,  sportive :  frolicsome. 

15  Vie,  strive  for  superiority. 

16  o'-Bi-ENT,  eastern. 

!■'  €om-pen-8a'-tion,  that  which  is  ^ven  tc 

make  up  some  loss. 
18  Dkn'-i-zens,  inhabitants. 
1*  I^Qd'-i-gal,  profuse. 
20  FbC'-qal,  not  wasteful. 
81  CM'-iiBAuE,  shade  ;  gcreen  of  trees. 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 


133 


m.  CLIMBEES  {SCANSOEES). 

LESSON  xxm. 

3 


Scale  of  Inches. 

1.  Great  Green  Macaw,  Macrocercics  militaris.  2.  Nuthatch,  Sitta  Carolinensia.  3. 
Red-billed  Toucan,  Raniphastos  erythorynchus.  4.  Papuan  Loiy,  Psittacus  Papuensis. 
5.  Crested  Cockatoo,  Plyctolophus  Leadheateri.  6.  Swindern's  Love  Bird,  Agapcenis 
Swinderianns.  7.  Alexandrine  Ring-Parrakeet,  Palceornis  A  lexandri.  8.  House  Wren, 
Sylvia  domestica.  9.  Carolina  Parrot,  Psittacus  Carolinensds.  10.  Red-headed  Wood- 
pecker, Picas  erythrocephalus.  11.  Golden-winged  Woodpecker,  Piq^  auratiis.  12. 
American  Cuckoo,  Cuculua  Americanus. 

1 .  The  third  order  of  birds,  which  is  included  by  some  in 
the  great  division  of  the  perchers,  is  composed  of  what  are 
called  the  climbing  birds,  most  of  which  are  distinguished 
from  the  birds  of  the  other  orders  by  having  two  toes  turned 
backward  and  two  forward,  a  provision^  which  eminently^ 
fits  them  for  climbing  the  trunks  of  trees  and  hanging  among 
their  branches.  In  this  division  are  found  the  woodpeckers, 
the  creepers,  the  toucans,  the  cuckoos,  and  the  parrots. 

2.  Of  the  numerous  family  of  the  woodpeckers,  which  are 
widely  scattered  over  both  the  Eastern  and  Western  conti- 
nents, twenty  different  species  are  found  within  the  United 
States.    Of  these  the  golden- winged  and  the  red-headed  seem 


134  WILLSOn's  FOUETH  reader.  Pakt  II. 

to  be  universally  known.  The  habits  of  all  are  much  ahke, 
as  all  of  them  dig  into  trees  with  their  strong  bills,  and  strip 
off  the  bark  to  find  the  worms  and  insects  concealed  beneath. 
The  allied^  family  of  the  creepers  includes  the  nuthatches  and 
those  familiar  little  birds,  the  wrens. 

3.  Alexander  Wilson,  the  ornithologist,'^  gives  a  curious 
account  of  a  pair  of  wrens  w^hich  had  built  in  a  box  by  his 
bedroom  window.  The  nest  had  been  completed,  and  two 
eggs  had  been  laid,  when,  the  window  and  door  of  the  room 
having  been  left  open,  the  female  wren  entered  to  reconnoi- 
ter  f  and,  venturing  too  far,  was  sprung  upon  by  the  cat  and 
destroyed. 

4.  "  Curious,"  he  adds,  "  to  see  how  the  widowed  survivor 
would  behave  on  the  tragical  occasion,  I  watched  him  care- 
fully for  several  days.  At  first  he  sung  with  great  vivacity 
for  an  hour  or  so,  but,  becoming  uneasy,  he  went  off  for  half 
an  hour.  On  his  return  he  chanted  as  before,  and  went  to 
the  top  of  the  house,  stable,  and  weeping-willow,  that  his 
lost  mate  might  hear.  But  as  he  could  neither  see  nor  hear 
any  thing  of  her,  he  returned  again  to  visit  the  nest,  ven- 
tured cautiously  in  at  the  window,  and  gazed  about  with  sus- 
picious looks,  sinking  his  voice  to  a  low,  melancholy  note  as 
he  stretched  his  little  neck  about  in  every  direction. 

6.  "  Returning  to  the  box,  he  seemed,  for  some  minutes, 
at  a  loss  what  to  do,  and  then  went  off,  as  I  supposed,  alto- 
gether, for  \  saw  him  no  more  that  day.  Toward  the  after- 
noon of  the  second  day,  however,  he  again  made  his  appear- 
ance, accompanied  by  a«female  wren,  which  seemed  exceed- 
ingly timorous^  and  shy ;  but,  after  some  hesitation,  she  en- 
tered the  box. 

6.  "At  this  moment  the  little  widower,  or  bridegroom, 
seemed  as  though  he  would  warble  out  his  very  life  in  an  ec- 
stasy"^ of  joy-  After  remaining  in  about  half  a  minute,  they 
both  flew  off,  but  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  and  instantly 
began  to  carry  out  the  eggs,  the  feathers,  and  some  of  the 
sticks,  supplying  the  place  of  the  latter  two  with  materials 
of  the  same  sort.  They  ultimately  succeeded  in  raising  a 
brood  of  seven  young,  all  of  which  escaped  in  safety." 

7.  ^lany  poets  have  sung  of  the  gallant  attention  of  the 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY.  135 

male  wren  to  his  mate  during  the  period  of  incubation.^    We 
quote  the  following : 

"Within  thy  warm  and  mossy  cell, 
Where  scarce  'twould  seem  thyself  could  dwell, 
Twice  eight,  a  speckled  brood,  we  tell, 

Nestling  beneath  thy  wing ; 
And  still  unwearied,  many  a  day. 
Thy  little  partner  loves  to  stay, 
Perch'd  on  some  trembling  timber  spray,^ 

Beside  his  mate  to  sing." — Wood. 

8.  And  to  the  same  purpose,  Wordsworth,  in  his  well- 
known  lines  "  On  a  Wren's  Nest,"  beautifully  says, 

*' There  to  the  breeding  bird,  her  mate 
Warbles  by  fits  his  low,  clear  song, 
And  by  the  busy  streamlet  both 
Are  sung  to  all  day  long." 

9.  The  toucans,  which  are  all  natives  of  tropical  America, 
are  an  interesting  family  of  large  forest  birds,  clothed  wuth 
brilliant  plumage.  They  are  easily  recognized  by  the  great 
size  of  the  beak,  which,  in  some  of  the  species,  is  nearly  as 
large  and  as  long  as  the  body  itself;  and  yet  it  is  rendered 
remarkably  light  by  its  honey-comb  structure.  The  toucan 
takes  great  care  of  its  bill,  packing  it  away  carefully  in  the 
feathers  of  its  back  before  sleeping. 

10.  The  cuckoos  are  a  small  family  of  half-perching  and 
half-climbmg  birds.  Of  the  few  that  are  found  in  northern 
climes,  the  common  European  cuckoo  has  ever  been  regard- 
ed with  great  interest,  as  its  melodious  but  rather  mournful 
note  in  early  spring,  heralding^^  the  return  of  sunny  skies 
and  bursting  vegetation,  carries  with  it  dear  associations  in 
every  country  where  it  is  known. 

11.  And  yet  the  reputation  of  this  bird  is  bad ;  for  it  makes 
no  nests  of  its  own,  but  steals  into  the  nests  of  other  birds, 
and  leaves  to  them  the  whole  care  of  its  eggs  and  its  young. 
Nor  is  this  all.  The  young  cuckoo  has  the  remarkable  facul- 
ty of  getting  rid  of  its  companions  in  the  nest  by  creeping 
under  them  and  throwing  them  out,  by  which  means  it  se- 
cures to  itself  all  the  attention  and  care  of  its  foster-parent." 
The  American  yellow-billed  cuckoo,  we  are  happy  to  say,  is 
a  much  more  honorable  bird  than  its  European  cousin,  as  it 


136 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH   KEADEE. 


Part  II. 


builds  its  own  nests,  hatches  its  own  eggs,  and  rears  its  own 
young. 

7  K€'-STA-8Y,  extreme  delight. 

8  In-€u-ba'-tion,  the  act  of  sitting  on  eggs 
for  the  purpose  of  hatching  young. 

9  Tim'-ber  spray,  twig  of  a  tree. 
'0  Hkb'-ald-ing,  announcing. 
11  Fos'-ter-p.ar'-bnt,  one  who  takes   the 

place  of  a  parent. 


1  Peo-vi"»ion,  arrangement. 

■  £m'-i-nent-ly,  in  a  peculiar  manner, 

3  Al-lTed',  related. 

*  Oe-ni-thol'-o-gist,    one    who    describes 
birds. 

»  RE-€ON-NOi'-TEE,to  examine ;  look  around. 

*  TIm'-ob-O08,  timid ;  afraid. 


LESSON  XXIV. 


PARROTS. 

1.  The  parrots,  which  belong  to  the  class  of  climbing  birds, 
are  remarkable  for  their  gay,  varied,  and,  in  many  instances, 
splendid  plumage  ;  their  hooked  and  powerful  bill ;  their 
thick,  fleshy  tongue ;  their  intelligence  and  docility  ;^  and  the 
peculiar  facility^  with  which  many  of  them  learn  to  imitate 
the  human  voice.  The  numerous  members  of  this  family  are 
grouped  under  several  divisions,  such  as  parrakeets,  macaws, 
the  parrots  proper,  the  cockatoos,  and  the  lories. 

2.  The  parrots  are  of  nearly  all  colors,  red,  yellow,  green. 


2d  Div.  OP ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  137 

blue,  and  scarlet.  The  crested  cockatoo  is  nearly  white,  with 
a  crest  of  bright  yellow.  The  Papuan  lory,  a  bird  of  grace- 
ftil  form  and  motions,  is  particularly  noted  for  its  scarlet 
plumes,  which  flash  with  exceeding  brilliancy  when  the  sun- 
light strikes  upon  them  in  the  depth  of  its  native  forests. 

*'  There,  through  the  trunks,  with  moss  and  lichens^  white, 
The  sunshine  darts  its  interrupted  light. 
And  'mid  the  cedar's  darksome  boughs  illumes,* 
With  instant  touch,  the  lory's  scarlet  plumes." — Bowles. 

3.  The  parrots  are  mostly  birds  of  warm  climates ;  and  in 
their  native  wilds,  when  climbing  among  the  trees  and  hang- 
ing from  the  branches  in  every  possible  attitude,^  their  move- 
ments are  marked  by  an  ^  ease  and  grace  of  motion  that  we 
can  never  see  exhibited  in  a  state  of  confinement.  Of  one 
hundred  and  seventy  of  the  parrot  family  that  have  been  de- 
scribed, only  one  species  is  a  native  of  the  United  States. 
Many  interesting  incidents  illustrating  the  character  and  hab- 
its of  these  birds  might  be  related.  The  following,  by  the 
poet  Campbell,  is  believed  to  be  a  true  story : 

4.  "A  parrot  from  the  Spanish  Main, 

Full  young,  and  early  caged,  came  o'er 
With  bright  wings  to  the  bleak  domain 
Of  Mulla's^  shore. 

6.  "To  spicy  groves,  where  he  had  won' 

His  plumage  of  resplendent^  hue. 
His  native  fruits,  and  skies,  and  sun. 
He  bade  adieu. 

6.  "He  changed  these  for  the  smoke  of  tmf, 

A  heathery'  land  and  misty  sky, 
And  turned  on  rocks  and  raging  surf 
His  golden  eye. 

7.  "  But,  fretted  in  our  climate  cold. 

He  lived  and  chattered  many  a  day, 
Until,  with  age,  from  green  and  gold 
His  wings  grew  gray. 

8.  "At  last,  when,  blind  and  seeming  dumb. 

He  scolded,  laughed,  and  spoke  no  more, 
A  Spanish  stranger  chanced  to  come 
To  Mulla's  shore. 


138 


willson's  poueth  reader. 


Pakt  it. 


9.  "He  hailed  the  bird  in  Spanish  speech, 

*  The  bird  in  Spanish  speech  replied, 

Flapped  round  the  cage  with  joyous  screech, 
Dropped  down — and  died." 


Campbell. 


1  Do-cTl'-i-ty,  teacbableucss ;  readinesa  to 
learn. 

2  Fa-cil'-i-ty,  ease ;  readiness. 

3  Li'-€nEN  (ll'-ken),  a  plant ;  rock-moss. 
*  Il-llme»',  lights  up. 
'  at'-ti-tOde,  position. 


6  Mdx'-i,a,  hnre  used  for  Irelaiid. 
">  Won,  obtained. 

8  Re-splen'-dent,  brilliant ;  shining. 

9  IIkatii'-eb-y  {heth'-er-y),  abounding  ^i>h 
the  plant  called  heath  or  heather. 


LESSOIS^  XXV. 


^ 


^M^Mt-.^ 


THE  CUCKOO  AND  THE  SWALLOW. 

1.  One  mom  a  cuckoo  thus  attacked  betimes 
A  swallow  lately  come  from  warmer  climes : 
"Ah'!  Madam  Catchfly' !*  once  again, 

I  see,  by  toil  unawed', 
Your  ladyship  has  cross'd  the  Main' ! 
How  fare  all  friends  abroad'  ?"* 


2.  "How  goes  the  world'  ?^  come',  tell'  the  news' 
A  little  news  is  pleasant' : 
How  do  the  folks  in  Turkey  use 
To  speak  of  birds  at  present'  ?•• 


2d  Div.  OP ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  139 

8.  "  What  say  the  Georgian  maids  so  pretty 
About  young  Nightingale's  dull  ditty^  ?** 

Do  any  praise  it  now'  ?"    I  fancy*not\" 
"  Excuse'  meV'  said  the  swallow',  "  much  they  praise 
His  plaintive  and  melodious  lays\ 

And  call  them  charming\  and  I  know  not  what\" 

4.  "  Charming'  !**  that's  droll  enough^ ;  what  says 

The  world,  then,  of  my  Httle  friend  Tomtit'  ?"^ 
"  Some  call  Inm.  foppish  in  his  ways' — 
But,"  said  the  swallow',  "  much  they  praise 

His  plumage'  and  his  wif.^^ 
"  His  wit'  l^  that's  weir,"  the  cuckoo  cried  with  glee, 
"  And  what  says  all  the  world  of  me'  ?" 

5.  "  Of  you'  !'"*  exclaimed  the  wondering  bird — 
"  Of  you'  !^ — in  truth,  sir,  not  a  word\" 

"  What'  \^  never'  P'"^  said  the  cuckoo,  "  never'  l^ 
Does  no  one  talk  of  me'  ?<^    How'  !^— Why '  !"*— 
That's  very  strange',  indeed',  for  I 

Talk  of  myself  forever'." 

a  See  Rule  II.  b  See  Rule  III. 

c  See  Rule  I.  for  the  reason  of  this  inflection.  d  See  Rule  X.,  Note. 


THE  CUCKOO. 

1.  The  cuckoo  is  noted  for  being  a  shy  bird — for  being 
often  heard,  but  seldom  seen.  This  fact  is  thus  alluded  to 
by  the  poet  Wordsworth : 

2.  "0  blithe  1tiew-comer^ !  I  have  heard — 

I  hear  thee  and  rejoice. 
O  cuckoo' !  shall  I  call  thee  bird', 
Or  but  a  wandering  voice^  ? 

3.  *'  The  same  that  in  my  school-boy  days 

I  listened  to — that  cry — 
Which  made  me  look  a  thousand  ways, 
In  bush,  and  tree,  and  sky. 

4r.  "To  see  thee  did  I  often  rove 

Through  woods  and  on  the  green ; 
And  thou  wert  still  a  hope — a  love — 
Still  longed  for,  never  seen. " 


140 


WILLSON'S   rOTJKTH   EEADEB. 


PaetIL 


lY.  THE  SCRATCHERS  OR  POULTRY  BIRDS 
{EASORES), 

OFTEN   CALLED  THE   GALLINACEOUS  BIRDS. 

LESSON  XXVI. 


Scale  of  Feet. 

1.  Peacock,  Pavo  criatatus.  2.  RuflFed  Grouse,  or  Partridge,  Tetrao  umbelliis.  3. 
Peacock  Pheasant,  Polyplectron  emphamcm.  4.  Pinnated  Grouse,  Tetrao  eiipido.  5. 
Argua  Pheasant,  Argus  giganteus.  6.  Common  Guinea-fowl,  Numida  Meleagris.  7. 
Turkey,  Meleagris  gallopdvo.  8.  Virginian  Quail,  Perdix  Virginianits.  9.  Red  Grouse- 
Ptarmigan,  or  English  Moorfowl,  Lagopua  Scoticus. 

1.  The  fourth  order  of  birds  embraces  that  part  of  the 
feathered  creation  which  is  by  far  the  most  useful  to  man. 
The  common  barn-door  fowls,  the  turkey,  peacock,  and 
Guinea-fowls ;  the  many  species  of  pigeons,  and  the  various 
birds  known  as  game,  all  fall  in  this  division ;  and  whether 
considered  as  wholesome  articles  of  food,  or  as  adornments  to 
man's  abode,  they  are  universally  esteemed,  and  by  almost  all 
nations  are  reared  and  domesticated^  for  their  various  uses. 

2.  As  these  birds  are  designed  principally  for  abode  upon 
the  ground,  they  have  strong  legs  and  feet ;  and  the  hind  toe, 
so  important  in  perching  and  grasping,  is  often  wanting,  or 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OUmTHOLOGY.  141 

is  very  short ;  the  nails  also  are  short,  or,  when  lengthened, 
always  stretch  out  in  a  line  with  the  toe.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  the  pigeons,  the  wings  of  these  birds,  not  being  de- 
signed for  flight,  are  short  and  rounded,  and  the  body  heavy. 

3.  This  order  of  birds  has  been  variously  divided  by  mod- 
ern writers  on  ornithology  into  several  great  families,  the 
most  important  of  which  are  our  common  poultry,  pheasants, 
pigeons,  and  grouse.  Our  domestic  fowls  were  originally  na- 
tives of  Southern  Asia,  and  in  a  wild  state  their  originals  are 
still  found  in  the  forests  and  jungles^  of  India. 

4.  It  is  well  known  that  when  the  common  hen  has  reared  a 
brood  of  ducks  instead  of  her  natural  progeny,  and  they  take 
to  the  water,  as  their  instinct  teaches  them,  she  is  in  a  perfect 
agony,  runnmg  round  the  brink  of  the  pond,  and  sometimes 
flying  into  it,  in  hopes  of  rescuing  her  brood  from  the  danger 
she  supposes  them  to  be  in.  Yet  this  natural  antipathy  to 
water  may  be  in  a  great  degree  overcome,  as  the  following 
anecdote  shows : 

5.  "  A  hen,  which  had  reared  three  broods  of  ducks  in  three 
successive  years,  became  habituated  to  their  taking  to  the 
water,  and  would  fly  to  a  large  stone  in  the  middle  of  the 
pond,  and  patiently  and  quietly  watch  her  brood  as  they  swam 
about  it.  The  fourth  year  she  hatched  her  own  eggs,  and 
finding  that  her  chickens  did  not  take  to  the  water  as  the 
ducklings  had  done,  she  flew  to  the  stone  in  the  pond,  and 
called  them  to  her  with  the  utmost  eagerness.  This  recollec- 
tion of  the  habits  of  her  former  charge  is  very  curious.'* 

6.  In  the  pheasant  family  are  found  the  pheasants,  the 
turkeys,  the  peacocks,  and  the  Guinea-fowls,  all  birds  of  large 
size  and  magnificent  plumage.  Pope's  description  of  the  dy- 
ing pheasant  has  rendered  that  beautiful  bird  additionally 
famous : 

"  See !  from  the  brake  the  whirring  pheasant  springs, 

And  mounts  exulting  on  triumphant  wings : 

Short  is  his  joy  ;  he  feels  the  fiery  wound, 

Flutters  in  blood,  and,  panting,  beats  the  ground. 
"Ah!  what  avail  his  glossy  varying  dyes, 

His  purple  crest  and  scarlet-circled  eyes ; 

The  vivid  green  his  shining  plumes  unfold, 

His  painted  wings,  and  breast  that  flames  with  gold  ?" — Pope. 


142  willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  1L 

7.  The  following  description  of  the  common  ring-necked 
pheasant,  by  another  writer,  will  give  a  still  better  idea  of 

^^  jl-      the  splendid  appearance  of  the  same  bird : 
"  Splendid  his  form  :  his  eyes,  of  flaming  gold, 
Two  fiery  rings  of  living  scarlet  hold  ; 
His  arching  neck  a  varying  beauty  shows, 
Now  rich  with  azure,  now  with  emerald  glows ; 
His  swelling  breast  with  glossy  purple  shines, 
Chestnut  his  back,  and  waved  with  ebon  lines ; 
To  his  broad  wings  gay  hues  their  radiance  lend, 
His  mail-clad  legs  two  knightly  spurs  defend." 

8.  The  pheasants  and  peacocks  are  natives  of  Southern 
Asia;  the  turkey  was  found  originally  in  North  America, 
and  the  Guinea-fowls  in  Western  Africa ;  but  all  of  them  are 
now  distributed  over  the  civilized  world.  The  splendor  of 
the  peacock  attracted  the  attention  of  the  mariners  of  King 
Solomon,  who,  in  their  southern  expedition,  obtained  these 
birds  and  carried  them  to  their  royal  master ;  and  at  a  period 
still  more  ancient,  the  beauty  of  this  bird  was  referred  to  by 
the  patriarch  Job,  who  says, "  Gavest  thou  the  goodly  wings 
unto  the  peacocks  ?" 

9.  The  turkey  is  still  found  wild  in  large  numbers  in  the 
forests  of  our  Western  States,  migrating  in  large  flocks  in  the 
latter  part  of  autumn.  The  manner  in  which  it  escapes  from 
the  attacks  of  large  owls  is  thus  described  by  C.  L.  Bona- 
parte, in  his  work  entitled^  "  American  Ornithology :" 

10.  "  These  birds  are  guardians  of  each  other,  and  the  first 
who  sees  a  hawk  or  an  eagle  gives  a  note  of  alarm,  on  which 
all  within  hearing  lie  close  to  the  ground.  As  they  usually 
roost  in  flocks,  perched  on  the  naked  branches  of  trees,  they 
are  easily  discovered  by  the  large  owls ;  but  when  attacked 
by  these  prowling  birds,  they  often  escape  by  a  somewhat  re- 
markable manoeuvre.  The  owl  sails  around  the  spot  to  select 
his  prey ;  but,  notwithstanding  the  almost  inaudible*  action 
of  his  pinions,  the  quick  ear  of  one  of  the  slumberers  j^erceives 
the  danger,  which  is  immediately  annoimced  to  the  whole 
party  by  a  chicck.^ 

11.  "Thus  alarmed,  all  rise  on  their  legs,  and  watch  the 
motions  of  the  owl,  who,  darting  like  an  arrow,  would  inev- 
itably secure  the  individual  at  which  he  aimed,  did  not  the 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. OENITHOLOGY.  143 

latter  suddenly  drop  his  head,  squat,  and  spread  his  tail  over 
his  back :  the  owl  then  glances  over,  without  inflicting  any  in- 
jury, at  the  very  instant  that  the  turkey  suffers  himself  to 
fall  headlong  toward  the  earth,  where  he  is  secure  from  his 
dreaded  enemy." 


Scale  of  Inches. 


1.  Bronze-winged  Dove  of  Australia,  Columba  ckalcoptera.  2.  Wild  Rock  Pigeon,  C 
livia.  3.  Crowned  Goura  Pigeon  of  Java,  C.  coronata.  4  Wild  or  Passenger  Pigeon,  C. 
migratoria.    5  and  6,  English  Ringdove,  or  Cushat,  C.  palumbus. 

12.  The  pigeon  or  dove  family,  which  unites  the  characters 
of  the  perchers  and  the  poultry  birds,  has  some  species  in 
nearly  every  quarter  of  the  globe ;  but  it  is  in  the  tropical 
climates  of  Southern  Asia  that  the  varieties — often  vying  with 
the  parrots  in  the  color  of  their  plumage — are  the  most  nu- 
merous. In  no  other  country,  however,  does  any  one  species 
swarm  so  abundantly  as  the  wild  pigeon  in  our  own. 

13.  The  celebrated  American  ornithologists,  Wilson  and 
Audubon,  have  very  happily  described  the  migrations  of  al- 
most innumerable  multitudes  of  wild  pigeons  which  they  saw 
in  our  Western  country.  The  passing  flocks  were  at  times  so 
large  as  to  obscure  the  sun  for  hours  together.  The  roosting- 
places  of  these  birds  presented  a  curious  spectacle.  Large 
trees  were  continually  breaking  down  by  the  masses  that  set- 
tled on  them ;  and  the  birds  that  were  killed  by  the  fall,  and 
by  the  clubs  of  the  people  who  gathered  around  the  borders 
of  the  woods,  literally  piled  the  ground  in  heaps  of  thousands. 


144  WELLSON'S   fourth   reader.  Pabt  II. 

The  noise  occasioned  by  the  continual  flapping  of  wings  was 
like  thunder ;  persons  could  not  hear  each  other  speak ;  and 
the  report  of  a  gun  a  rod  distant  could  scarcely  be  distin- 
guished in  the  general  uproar.  On  the  departure  of  the  bu'ds, 
the  forests  looked  as  if  they  had  been  swept  by  a  tornado. 

14.  In  addition  to  the  wild  pigeon,  and  the  common  dove 
which  is  famihar  to  all,  and  which  latter,  in  a  wild  state,  is 
known  as  the  wild  rock  pigeon,  there  are  two  other  species  in 
this  country,  one  known  as  the  Carolina  turtle-dove,  and  the 
other  as  the  Southern  ground-dove,  or  ortolan.  Our  turtle- 
dove is  a  favorite  bird  with  all  who  love  to  w^ander  among 
our  woods  in  spring,  and  listen  to  their  varied  harmony.  Its 
peculiar  mournful  moanings,  which  sound  so  much  like  the 
voice  of  sorrow,  are  none  other  than  the  love-notes  with  which 
it  woos  its  happy  mate.  The  English  ringdove,  or  cushat,®  is 
also  noted  for  its  cooing,  and  plaintive  murmuring. 

*'  Dear  is  my  little  native  vale, 

The  ringdove  builds  and  warbles  there ; 
Close  by  my  cot  she  tells  her  tale 
To  every  passing  villager." — Rogers. 

15.  Another  important  division  of  this  order  of  birds  is  the 
grouse  family,  which  embraces  those  large  groups  of  game 
birds  known  in  familiar  language  as  grouse,  partridges,  quails, 
and  ptarmigans.  The  names  by  which  the  several  species  of 
the  grouse  family  are  known  vary  greatly  in  different  places. 
The  engravings  which  we  have  given  of  several  of  these  birds 
will  convey  a  better  knowledge  of  them  than  any  description. 
The  pinnated  grouse  is  a  very  singular  bird,  peculiar  to  Amer- 
ica alone,  and  is  found  in  pine-barrens  and  prairie-lands.  In 
New  England  the  quail  is  often  called  a  partridge;  and  in 
Pennsylvania  the  true  partridge  (or  ruffed  grouse)  is  usually 
called  a  pheasant.  In  early  spring-time  the  partridge  makes 
a  loud  drumming  sound  by  beating  his  sides  with  his  wings. 
This  drumming  is  thus  described  by  an  Atnerican  poet : 

!(?.  "  *  nearest  thou  that  bird  ?' 

I  listened,  and  from  'midst  the  depth  of  woods 
Heard  the  love  signal  of  the  grouse  that  wears 
A  sable  ruff  around  his  mottled  neck : 
Partridge  they  call  him  by  our  northern  streams, 


2d  DiV.  OP ZOOLOGY. «^€>KNITHOLOGY,  145 

And  pheasant  by  the  Delaware.     He  beats 

'Gainst  his  barred  sides  his  speckled  wings,  and  makes 

A  sound  like  distant  thunder ;  slow  the  strokes 

At  first,  then  fast  and  faster,  till  at  length 

They  pass  into  a  murmur,  and  are  still." — Bryakt. 

1  no-MEs'-Ti-€A-TED,  tamed ;  made  domes-  3  En-ti'-tlkd,  named  ;  liaving  the  title  o£ 
tic.  *  In-au'-di-ble,  that  can  not  he  heard. 

9  Jun'-gle,  land  mostly  covered  with  brush-  *  Chuck,  the  voice  or  call  of  a  hen. 
wood.  6  €08n'-AT  (pronounced  koosh'-at). 


LESSON  XXYII. 
THE   GITY   DOVE. 

1.  Stoop  to  my  window,  thou  beautiful  dove ! 
Thy  daily  visits  have  touched  my  love. 

I  watch  thy  coming,  and  list  thy  note 
That  stirs  so  low  in  thy  mellow  throat, 

And  my  joy  is  high 
To  catch  the  glance  of  thy  gentle  eye. 

2.  Why  dost  thou  sit  on  the  heated  eaves, 

And  forsake  the  wood  with  its  freshened  leaves  ? 

Why  dost  thou  haunt  the  sultry  street. 

When  the  paths  of  the  forest  are  cool  and  sweet  ? 

How  canst  thou  bear 
This  noise  of  people — this  sultry  air  ? 

3.  Thou  alone,  of  the  feathered  race. 
Dost  look  unscared  on  the  human  face ; 
Thou  alone,  with  a  wing  to  flee. 

Dost  love  with  man  in  his  haunts  to  be ; 

And  the  "  gentle  dove" 
Has  become  a  name  of  truth  and  love. 

4.  Come  then  ever,  when  daylight  leaves 
The  page  I  read,  to  my  humble  eaves, 
And  wash  thy  breast  in  the  hollow  spout. 
And  murmur  thy  low,  sweet  music  out. 

I  hear  and  see 
Lessons  of  wisdom,  sweet  bird,  in  thee. 

N.  P.  Willis. 
G 


146 


willson's  foueth  header. 


PartIL 


V.  THE  EUNNEES  (CUBSOEES), 

LESSON  xxvm. 


Scale  of  Feet. 


1.  Great  Bustard,  Otis  tarda.  2.  Trumpeter-bird,  Psophia  crepitans.  3.  African  Os- 
trich, Sti-uthio  camelus.  4  Emu  of  New  Holland,  Emu  dromanis.  5.  Cassowary  of 
Asia,  Casuarius  casoar.  6.  Apteryx,  Apteryx  mantelli.  7.  American  Ostrich,  JRhea 
Americaiia. 

1.  The  fifth  order  of  birds  consists  of  the  ostrich  family, 
which  is  composed  of  long-legged  birds  of  large  size,  most 
of  them  equaling  the  average  height  and  bulk  of  the  quadru- 
peds. But  few  of  them  are  able  to  raise  themselves  from  the 
earth  by  their  wings.  The  principal  birds  of  this  order  are 
the  African  ostrich,  the  South  American  ostrich,  the  casso- 
wary of  Eastern  Asia,  the  emu  of  New  Holland,  the  apteryx 
of  New  Zealand,  and  the  bustards.  The  forms  and  compar- 
ative^ size  of  these  birds  will  be  best  learned  from  the  en- 
graving at  the  head  of  this  lesson. 

2.  The  African  ostrich,  or  camel-hird,  so  called  from  its 
striking  resemblance  to  the  camel,  is  from  seven  to  ten  feet 
in  height ;  and  so  swift  and  strong  is  it,  that,  with  two  men 


2d  DiV.  OP ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY.  147 

mounted  on  its  back,  it  will  outstrip^  an  English  horse  in 
speed.  "  What  time  she  lifteth  herself  on  high,  she  scorneth 
the  horse  and  his  rider." 

"And  the  fleet-footed  ostrich,  over  the  waste, 
Speeds,  like  a  horseman  that  travels  in  haste." 

Its  cry  so  much  resembles  that  of  a  lion  as  often  to  deceive 
the  natives  themselves.  The  long  plumes  of  the  wings  and 
tail  of  the  ostrich,  Avhich  are  either  perfectly  white  or  black, 
have  long  been  an  important  article  of  commerce,  although 
they  are  now  frequently  imitated  from  the  feathers  of  other 
birds. 

3.  The  African  ostrich  has  excited  the  attention  of  man- 
kind from  the  most  remote  ages.  Its  egg,  which  is  a  curios- 
ity in  itself,  weighs  nearly  three  pounds.  The  ostrich  is  fre- 
quently mentioned  in  the  Book  of  Job,  and  in  other  portions 
of  the  Old  Testament.  "  Gavest  thou  the  goodly  wings  unto 
the  peacock  ?  or  wings  and  feathers  unto  the  ostrich,  which 
leaveth  her  eggs  in  the  earth,  and  warmeth  them  in  the  dust, 
and  forgetteth  that  the  foot  may  crush  them,  or  that  the  wild 
beast  may  break  them  ?"  It  is  known  that,  in  equatorial  re- 
gions, the  ostrich  "leaveth  her  eggs  in  the  earth,"  to  be  Warm- 
ed and  hatched  by  the  sun,  with  Httle  or  no  attention  on  the 
part  of  the  mother;  but,  where  the  climate  ia  colder,  she 
hatches  them  in  the  usual  manner. 

4.  The  early  Greek  writers  were  well  acquainted  with  the 
history  and  appearance  of  the  ostrich ;  and  among  the  Romans 
it  was  frequently  exhibited  in  their  games,  and  the  brains  »{ 
hundreds  at  a  time  were  served  up  as  a  delicacy  for  the  table 
In  its  native  haunts  it  is  a  shy  bird,  wary,  restless,  and  diffi- 
cult of  approach ;  but,  as  an  evidence  of  its  dullness,  it  is  saic^ 
that,  when  closely  pursued,  if  it  can  conceal  its  head  in  a  hol^ 
or  under  a  bush,  it  deems  itself  safe.  In  confinement  'the  os- 
trich  eagerly  swallows  stones,  knives,  spoons,  and  even  brokei? 
glass,  without  injury. 

5.  The  nandu,  or  American  ostrich,  which  is  only  about 
half  as  large  as  the  African  bird,  and  less  thickly  covered 
with  feathers,  has  the  same  propensity^  for  swallowing  iron, 
stones,  etc.,  as  the  ostrich  of  the  East.  The  cassowary  o^ 
southeastern  Asia  is  nearly  as  large  as  the  ostrich,  which  it 


148 


WILLSON  S   FOURTH   READER. 


Part  U. 


much  resembles ;  but  its  legs  are  thicker  and  stronger  in  pro- 
portion, and  its  head  is  covered  with  a  kind  of  horny  helmet, 
consisting  of  plates  one  over  another.  The  emu  of  New 
Holland  resembles  the  cassowary  in  most  respects,  but  dif- 
fers from  it  in  not  having  the  helmet.  The  small  wings  of 
these  birds  are  of  no  use  in  flight,  but  serve  to  balance  the 
body  in  running. 

6.  But  the  most  singular  of  all  the  birds  of  this  order  is 
the  New  Zealand  apteryx,  which  has  neither  Avings  nor  a  tail. 
Upon  its  very  long  and  slender  beak  it  sometimes  leans  in 
walking,  using  it  as  an  old  man  would  a  cane.  It  is  a  noc- 
turnal bird,  feeding  on  worms,  and  pursuing  its  prey  on  the 
ground  by  smell  rather  than  by  sight.  But  this  curious 
creature,  which  seems  the  last  link  in  the  bird  creation,  cor- 
responding to  the  New  Holland  mole  among  quadrupeds,  is 
becoming  quite  rare  in  its  native  clime,*  and,  doubtless,  in  a 
few  years  the  race  w^ill  be  extinct.^  Other  birds  of  the  os- 
trich family  have  been  exterminated^  by  human  agency"^  with- 
in a  recent  period ;  and  of  other  species,  larger  than  the  os- 
trich, all  we  know  is  what  can  be  learned  from  their  fossil® 
remains. 

Y.  The  bustards,  which  are  large  birds  found  only  on  the 
Eaatern  continent,  are,  like  the  ostrich,  noted  for  their  pow- 
ers of  running,  although  some  of  them  will  take  wing  when 
closely  pursued.  The  great  bustard,  once  numerous  in  En- 
gland, is  now  of  very  rare  occurrence  there.  The  trumpeter- 
bird,  found  in  South  America,  has  by  some  been  included 
with  the  bustards.  It  receives  its  name  from  the  pecuhar 
noise  which  it  makes  without  opening  its  bill.  When  do- 
mesticated, it  shows  great  fondness  and  fidelity;  and  is  so 
regardful  of  its  owner's  interests  that  it  attacks  dogs  and 
other  animals  that  venture  near  him.  Sometimes  it  is  used 
to  protect  domestic  poultry  from  the  onsets^  of  birds  of  prey. 


*  €om-pab'-a-tTve,  estimated  by  compari- 
son ;  not  real. 

2  Out-8teTp',  outrun. 

3  Pbo-pen'-8i-ty,  natural  tendency;  dispo- 
sition. 

4  €i.Tme,  climate ;  country. 


5  Ex-tTnct',  at  an  end, 

6  Ex-tkrm'-in-.v-ted,  destroyed. 

■J  a'-gen-oy,  mean.s :  efforts  ;  instrumental- 
ity. 

8  FOs'-BiL,  dug  out  of  the  earth ;  petrified. 

9  on'-si:t8,  attacks. 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 


149 


YI.  THE  WADERS  {GRALLATORES). 
LESSOK  XXIX. 


Scale  of  Feu. 


1.  Eoseate  Spoonbill,  Platalea  ajaja.  2.  Whooping  Crane,  Ardea  Americana.  3. 
Glossy  Ibis,  Ibis  falcinellus.  4.  Red  Flamingo,  Phoenicopterus  ruber.  5.  American 
'Biiiern.,  Ardea  minor.  6.  CexeaXllcron,  Ardea  Uerodias.  7.  White  Stork,  CicoJim  ajbo. 
8.  Water  Rail,  Rallv^  aquaticus.  9.  Woodcock,  Scolopax  m,inor.  10.  African  Stilt,  or 
Plover,  Himantopv^  melanopterus.    11.  Common  Snipe,  Hcolopax  gallinago. 

1.  We  come  now  to  that  order  of  birds  known  as  Wadees, 
which  are  distinguished  by  the  great  length  of  their  legs, 
which  fits  them  for  wading;  and  also  by  their  long  beaks 
and  necks,  which  are  well  adapted  for  seizing  fish  and  the 
other  aquatic^  animals  on  which  they  feed.  Their  wings  are 
long  and  powerful,  and  most  of  them  migrate  with  the  chang- 
ing seasons.  In  this  order  are  found  the  families  of  herons, 
spoonbills,  ibises,  snipes,  plovers,  and  rails ;  and  by  some  the 
flamingo  also  is  placed  in  this  division. 

2.  The  family  of  the  herons  includes  not  only  the  herons 
proper,  but  also  those  kindred  species,  the  storks,  bitterns, 
and  cranes.  The  great  American  heron,  which  is  larger  than 
the  common 'heron  of  Europe,  but  of  similar  habits,  is  a  great 


loO  WILLSON's  fourth   reader.  Tart  II. 

destroyer  offish,  and  is  usually  found  by  the  banks  of  streams, 
or  along  the  sides  of  lakes  and  their  islands,  and  in  the  latter 
parts  of  autumn  and  winter  by  the  sea-shore.  In  the  latter 
situations  they  take  their  station  as  soon  as  the  shoals^  begin 
to  be  uncovered  by  the  ebbing^  of  the  tide ;  and,  when  satia- 
ted* with  feeding,  rows  of  these  birds  may  be  seen  on  some 
retired  sand-bank,  their  heads  sunk  between  their  shoulders, 
exhibiting  a  picture  of  full-fed  laziness. 

3.  "  Far  up  some  brook's  still  course,  whose  current  streams 

The  forest's  blacken'd  roots,  and  whose  green  marge 

Is  seldom  visited  by  human  foot, 

The  lonely  heron  sits,  and  harshly  breaks 

The  Sabbath-silence  of  the  wilderness ; 

And  you  may  find  her  by  some  reedy  pool, 

Or  brooding  gloomily  on  the  time-stain'd"  rock, 

Beside  some  misty  and  far-reaching  lake." — M'Lellan. 

4.  Although  the  heron  is  a  wading  bird,  and  usually  soli- 
tary in  its  habits,  yet  in  the  spring-time  it  congregates^  in 
flocks,  and  builds  its  nest  in  the  tops  of  lofty  trees,  selecting 
for  this  purpose  the  gloomy  solitudes  of  vast  swamps  that  are 
difficult  of  access.  The  storks,  which  are  numerous  in  Eu- 
rope, often  congregating  about  towns  and  villages,  are  a  privi- 
leged bird  wherever  found,  on  account  of  the  havoc^  which 
they  make  among  noxious"^  animals. 

5.  The  following  story  is  told  of  a  wild  stork  which  was 
brought  by  a  farmer  into  his  poultry-yard,  to  be  the  com- 
panion of  a  tame  one  which  he  had  long  kept  there.  The 
tame  stork,  disliking  a  rival,  fell  upon  the  poor  stranger,  and 
bent  him  so  unmercifully  that  he  was  compelled  to  seek  safety 

inflight.  About  four  months  after- 
ward, however,  he  returned  to  the 
poultry -yard,  recovered  of  his 
wounds,  and  attended  by  three 
other  storks,  who  no  sooner 
alighted  than  all  four  fell  upon  the 
lame  stork  and  killed  him. 

6.  The  bittern,  which  hides  by 
day  and  feeds  by  night,  builds  its 
nest  on  the  ground,  or  in  low 
bushes,  in  sea  and  river  marshes. 


2d  r>IV.  OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY.  151 

It  is  mentioned  in  the  Bible  as  inhabiting  desolate  places ; 
and  the  Lord,  in  foretelling  the  destruction  of  Babylon,  says, 
"  I  will  also  make  it  a  possession  for  the  hitterti^  and  pools  of 
water."  When  the  American  bittern  is  startled  in  the  day- 
time by  the  too  near  approach  of  footsteps,  it  utters  a  hollow, 
guttural  note;  but  it  has  not  that  loud  booming  sound  for 
which  the  European  bittern  is  so  remarkable. 

"  While,  scared  by  step  so  near, 
Uprising  from  the  sedgy  brink 
The  lonely  bittern's  cry  will  sink 

Upon  the  startled  ear." — Hoffman. 

v.  Another  bird  of  the  heron  family  is  the  American  crane, 
often  called  the  whooping  crane^  on  account  of  its  loud,  pierc- 
ing cry,  which  may  be  heard  at  the  distance  of  two  miles. 

"  Vast  clang  is  heard 
Along  the  skies,  when,  from,  incessant  showers 
Escaping,  and  from  winter's  cold,  the  cranes 
Take  wing,  and  over  ocean  speed  away." 

The  cranes  migrate  yearly  from  South  America,  and  some- 
times go  as  far  north  as  the  arctic  circle;  and  in  their  im- 
mense journeyings  they  pass  at  so  great  a  height  in  the  air 
as  to  be  seldom  seen.  Yet  they  are  found  scattered  over  all 
North  America.  They  are  extremely  shy  and  vigilant,  and 
it  is  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  they  can  be  shot. 

8.  Audubon  gives  a  ludicrous^  account  of  his  fleeing  from 
a  crane,  whose  wing  he  had  broken  by  a  musket  shot.  After 
having  pursued  the  wounded  bird  until  it  took  refuge  iii  a 
pile  of  drift-wood,  he  says :  "  As  I  approached  it,  panting  and 
almost  exhausted,  it  immediately  reared  itself  to  the  full 
stretch  of  its  body,  legs,  and  neck,  ruffled  its  feathers,  shook 
them,  and  advanced  toward  me  with  open  bill,  and  eyes  glar- 
ing with  anger.  Perhaps  it  was  because  I  was  almost  ex- 
hausted with  fatigue ;  but  I  felt  unwilling  to  eacounter  my 
antagonist,  and,  keeping  my  eye  on  him,  moved  backward. 

9.  "The  farther  I  removed,  the  more  he  advanced,  until  at 
length  I  turned  my  back  to  him,  and  took  to  my  heels,  re- 
treating with  much  more  speed  than  I  had  pursued.  He  fol- 
lowed, and  I  was  glad  to  reach  the  river,  into  which  I  plunged 
up  to  the  neck,  calling  out  to  my  boatmen,  who  came  up  as 


162  willson's  FOUETH  BEADER.  Pakt  II. 

fast  as  they  could.  The  crane 
stood  looking  angrily  on  me 
all  the  time,  immersed^  up  to 
his  belly  in  the  water,  and 
only  a  few  yards  distant,  now 
and  then  making  thrusts  at 
"^ — -'-  —-—=--  me  with  his  bill.    There  he 

stood  until  the  people  came  up,  and  highly  delighted  were 
they  with  my  misfortune — discomfited^^  by  a  bird !  How- 
ever, the  battle  was  soon  over ;  for,  on  landing,  some  of  them 
struck  the  winged  warrior  on  the  neck  with  an  oar,  and  we 
carried  him  on  board." 

10.  The  spoonbills — so  named  on  account  of  the  peculiar 
form  of  the  bill — have  many  characters  in  common  with  the 
herons,  and  are  usually  found  associating  with  them.  The 
ibises — of  which  the  white  or  sacred  ibis  of  Egypt  is  the  most 
celebrated — more  nearly  resemble  the  storks.  Several  spe- 
cies of  these  birds  are  found  in  the  United  States,  chiefly  in 
the  southern  portions.^ 

11.  The  snipes,  which  embrace  a  large  family  of  birds, 
known  by  the  common  names  of  woodcocks,  marlins,  cur- 
lews, tattlers,  stilts,  avosets,  ruffs,  sandlarks,  and  sandpipers, 
are  noted  for  the  extreme  length  and  slenderness  of  the  beak. 
These  birds  frequent  marshes,  and  the  banks  of  lakes  and  riv- 
ers, on  which  they  run  with  great  swiftness.  Their  flesh  is 
held  in  high  esteem.  In  general  form  and  habits  the  plovers 
and  rails  are  nearly  allied  to  the  snipes.  Many  species  of  the 
rails,  or  water-hens,  are  found  in  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas. 

12.  The  flamingo,  which  has  the  neck  and  legs  of  greater 
proportionate  length  than  any  other  bird,  often  measures  six 
feet  from  the  end  of  its  claws  to  the  tip  of  its  bill.  When  in 
full  plumage,  which  is  not  till  the  end  of  the  third  year,  this 
bird  is  of  a  deep  scarlet  color,  except  the  quills,  which  are 
black.  The  flamingo  is  abundant  in  Africa,  and  in  South 
America  and  the  West  India  Islands,  and  has  been  seen  as 
far  north  as  the  neighborhood  of  Philadelphia.  It  piles  up 
a  hillock  of  mud,  with  a  cavity^^  at  the  top,  for  its  nest. 

13.  A  flock  of  these  birds,  seen  at  a  distance  6n  the  mar 
gin  of  a  river,  appears  like  a  regiment  of  soldiers  in  brilliant 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 


153 


ifciiform.  When  they  are  feeding,  one  of  them  stands  senti- 
nel ;  and  the  moment  he  sounds  the  alarm,  the  whole  flock 
take  wing. 


*'And  see  where  yonder  stalks,  ^^  in  crimson  pride, 
The  tall  flamingo  by  the  river's  side — 
Stalks,  in  his  richest  plumage  bright  arrayed, 
With  s^owy  neck  superb,  and  legs  of  length'ning  shade." 

Bowles. 


>  A-quat'-I€,  pertaining  to  water. 

2  Shoals,  shallow  places. 

3  kbb'-ing,  flowing  back ;  the  reflux. 
*  Sa'-tia-teb,  filled  ;  glutted. 

^  €6n'-gbe-gates,  assembles. 
6  IIav'-oc,  destruction. 


7  N8x'-iorrs,  injurious. 

8  Lu'-i)i-«ROus,  laughable. 

9  Im-mee8'ed,  plunged  in ;  covered. 

10  Di8-€6m'-fit-ed,  defeated  ;  put  to  flight. 

11  €av'-i-ty,  a  hollow. 

12  Stalks,  walks  with  proud  step. 

G2 


154 


WILLSON  S   FOURTH   KEADEE. 


'art  11= 


YII.  THE  SWIMMEES  {NATATORES). 
LESSON  XXX. 


Scale  of  Feet. 

1.  VsitSigom&ri  V^ngmn,  Aptenodiftes  Patacjonica.  2.  Great  Auk,  ^/carmjOCTims.  3. 
Vnfhn.^  Alca  arciica.  4.  Brown  Pelican,  P^Zecan?/* /«sci*s-  5.  Black-backed  Gull,  La- 
rua  f uncus.  .6.  Darter,  Plotus  anhinga.  1.  Albatross,  Diomeda  exulaiis.  8.  Little 
Aukj  Alca  alle.  9.  Crested  Grebe,  Podiceps  cornutus.  10.  Great  Northern  Diver,  or 
Loon,  Colipnbtta  glacialia.    11.  Wild  Swan,  Cygnus  ferus. 

1.  The  seventh  and  last  order  of  birds  embraces  the  large 
class  of  web-footed  or  .swimming  birds.  As  these  birds  move 
in  an  element  which  is  every  where  essentially  the  same, 
whether  beneath  the  tropics  or  beyond  the  polar  circles,  we 
find  not  only  that  there  are,  as  among  the  land  birds,  partic- 
ular kinds  confined  to  different  portions  of  the  world,  but 
that  some  species,  such  as  the  ducks,  the  gulls,  and  the  pe- 
trels, encircle^  the  entire  globe. 

2.  Like  the  other  orders,  that  of  the  swimmers  also  h^s 
been  divided  into  several  families,  the  several  species  in  each 
bearing  some  striking  resemblances  to  each  other.  Thus  the 
swimmers  are  divided  into  the  six  families  of  the  ducks, 
divers,  auks,  petrels,  gulls,  and  pelicans.    A  common  observer 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  155 

might  not  readily  see  why  they  are  divided  into  these  partic- 
ular groups  or  families,  or  why  additional  divisions  might 
not  just  as  well  be  made — why,  for  example,  ducks,  geese, 
and  swans  might  not  form  three  sepai-ate  families  as  well  as 
one. 

3.  But  as  some  grouping  into  families  is  essential  to  a 
clear  description  of  their  forms  and  habits,  the  arrangement 
which  is  most  convenient  for  this  purpose  should  be  adopted. 
Thus  the  duck  family  may  be  described  as  those  swimming- 
birds  that  have  thick  and  broad  bills ;  and  this  description 
will  include  the  various  kinds  of  ducks,  geese,  and  swans. 
The  divers  are  described  as  having  narrow,  straight,  and 
sharp-pointed  bills,  and  as  remaining  a  long  time  under  wa- 
ter; and  this  description  will  ajoply  to  what  are  known  as 
divers,  grebes,  and  loons ;  and  thus  are  made  up  the  several 
families  into  which  the  swimmers  are  divided..  Some  similar 
arrangement  has  been  adopted  in  all  the  other  orders. 


1.  White-fronted  Wil<l  Goose,  Anan  erythropua.  2.  Common  Eider  Duck,  Anas  mol- 
lissima.  3.  Green-crested  Cormorant,  Pelecmius  cristatus.  4.  Red-throated  Diver,  Co- 
lymhus  septentrionalis.  5.  Common  Shoveler-duck,  Anas  clypeata.  6.  Surf-duck,  or 
Scoter,  Anas  perspicillata.    1.  Solan  Goose,  or  Gannet,  Pelecanus  bassana. 

4.  Of  all  the  swimming-birds,  the  duck  family,  including 
ducks,  geese,  and  swans,  is  the  best  known,  as  some  species 
in  each  division  have  been  domesticated.  The  vigilant  hab- 
its of  wild  geese  while  feeding  have  been  thus  described : 

"WHien  they  go  forth  to  graze,  with  jealous  care 
They  place  a  watch,  which,  with  keen  ear  intenf* 
On  coming  clanger,  sounds  its  shrill  note, 
And  waiTis  the  ready  flock." — Schiller. 

5.  The  swan,  which  is  a  beautiful  and  majestic  bird,  has 
been  glorified^  by  the  bards*  of  all  nations.  Milton  thus  de- 
scribes it : 


156  WILLSON's  fourth  reader.  Part  II. 

"The  swan,  with  arched  neck 
Between  her  white  wings  mantling^  proudly,  rows 
Her  state^  with  airy  feet ;  yet  oft  they  quit 
The  dank,  "^  and  rising  on  swift  pinions,  tower 
The  mid  aerial  sky." 

According  to  nearly  all  the  old  poets,  and  some  of  the  mod- 
erns, the  swan  pom-s  forth  its  last  breath  in  sublime  and  en- 
chanting music.  There  is  a  fable  that  a  stork,  which  listen- 
ed to  the  song  of  a  dying  swan,  told  her  it  was  contrary  to 
nature  to  sing  so  much  out  of  season,  and  asked  her  the  rea- 
son of  it.  "  Why,"  said  the  swan,  "  I  am  now  entering  into 
a  state  where  I  shall  be  no  longer  in  danger  of  either  snares, 
guns,  or  hunger ;  and  who  would  not  rejoice  at  such  a  deliv- 
erance ?" 

6.  Among  the  divers  the  largest  and  finest  species  is  the 
great  loon,  which  is  frequently  seen  on  inland  lakes  in  this 
country,  but  is  seldom  shot,  as  it  dives  instantaneously  at  the 
flash  of  a  gun,  and  then  swims  a  great  distance  under  water. 
The  cry  of  the  loon,  which  is  melancholy  in  its  tone,  resem- 
bling the  howling  of  the  wolf,  is  said  to  portend^  rain. 

V.  The  auks,  which  have  their  dreary  homes  on  the  frozen 
coasts  and  is^inds  of  the  Northern  Ocean,  but  from  which 
they  wander  hundreds  of  miles  out  to  sea,  have  generally 
small  wings ;  but  these  they  use  as  aids  in  diving  and  swim- 
ming. The  great  auk  can  not  fly  at  all ;  but  he  chmbs  up 
the  rocky  cliffs,  and  is  often  seen  on  floating  ice. 

8.  The  puflin  is  another  bird  of  the  auk  family ;  and  in  the 
southern  hemisphere  the  same  family, is  represented  by  the 
penguins,  which  are  very  singular-looking  birds,  having  no 
wings  nor  proper  feathers,  but  two  fins  or  flippers,  like  the 
seal.  These  birds  are  found  in  immense  flocks  on  the  south- 
em  islands.  On  land  they  hop  along  in  a  very  awkward 
manner,  but  they  swim  with  great  swiftness,  and  are  often 
ceen  far  out  at  sea. 

9.  The  petrels,  or  fulmars,  are  eminently  birds  of  the  ocean, 
rarely  approaching  the  land,  some  of  them  appearing  to  be 
almost  constantly  on  the  wing,  and  following  the  course  of 
ships  for  days  together  without  alighting.  The  common  al- 
batross, which  belongs  to  this  family,  extends  its  wings  far- 


2(1  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OKNITHOLOGY.  157 

ther  in  flying  than  any  other  sea-bird  known.  "When  on  the 
wing  it  is  the  very  ideaP  of  beauty  ;  and  it  sits  upon  the  wa- 
ter as  light  and  graceful  as  a  swan. 

10.  The  gulls  are  a  numerous  and  well-known  family,  dis- 
persed over  every  quarter  of  the  world.  The  terns  or  sea- 
swallows,  the  skimmer  of  the  seas,  and  the  gray,  white,  a,nd 
black-backed  gulls,  are  names  by  which  some  of  the  species 
are  known.  The  family  of  the  pelicans,  which  includes  the 
cormorants,  darters,  frigate  birds,  the  Solan  goose  or  gannet, 
and  the  phaetons,  closes  the  list  of  the  sea-birds — and  a  nu- 
merous list  it  is.  And  what  a  degree  of  life  they  impart  to 
the  grand,  gloomy,  majestic,  and  otherwise  solitary  ocean ! 

11.  And  how  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  wild  and 
gloomy  grandeur  of  the  scene  are  the  habits  of  these  birds, 
and  the  hardy  Uves  they  lead ! 

"Watchful  and  agile,"  uttering  voices  wild 
And  harsh,  yet  in  accordance  with  the  waves 
Upon  the  beach,  the  winds  in  caverns  moaning, 
Or  winds  and  waves  abroad  upon  the  water. 
Some  seek  their  food  among  the  finny  shoals, 
Swift  darting  from  the  clouds,  emerging  soon 
With  slender  captives  glittering  in  their  beaks ; 
These  in  recesses  of  steep  crags  construct 
Their  eyries^  ^  inaccessible,  and  train 
Their  hardy  broods  to  forage^ ^  in  all  weathers." 

12.  How  cheering  the  presence  of  these  birds  is  to  the 
weary  mariner,  none  but  those  who  "  go  down  upon  the  sea 
in  ships"  can  tell.  But  in  an  economical  relation,  also,  this 
order  of  birds  is  of  considerable  importance.  To  it  we  owe 
all  our  domesticated  breeds  of  geese,  ducks,  etc. ;  from  it 
our  finest  feathers  and  downs,  employed  as  articles  of  lux- 
ury, or  by  the  fair  sex  as  dresses  and  adornments  of  orna- 
mental comfort,  are  derived ;  and  among  northern  nations  the 
collection  of  the  eggs  and  young  of  many  wild  species  is  an 
object  of  regular  employment  and  commerce. 

13.  We  have  thus  given  a  very  brief  account  of  the  swim- 
ming-birds. In  the  preceding  orders — in  the  birds  of  prey,  the 
perchers,  the  climbers,  the  scratchers,  the  runners,  the  waders 
— we  are  constantly  reminded  of  benevolent  design  in  the 
wisdom  which  has  created  and  arranged  them,  each  in  its 


158  WLLLSON'S  FOURTH  READER.  Paet  II. 

proper  sphere,  and  all  in  beautiful  harmony :  and  here  again 
we  find  the  same  beautiful  adaptation  ui  the  powers,  instincts, 
and  habits  of  these  water-birds  to  the  places  they  are  design- 
ed to  fill  in  the  great  chain  of  animated  nature. 

14.  The  swimmers  are  a  large  class  of  birds,  and  wide  is 
the  range  which  has  been  assigned  them ;  for  they  not  only 
throng^s  on  the  line  of  the  ocean,  and  frequent  every  bay  and 
headland  of  its  winding  shores  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe, 
but  wherever,  in  their  lofty  flights,  the  surface  of  an  inland 
lake  or  river  meets  their  view,  remote  from  the  dwellings  of 
man,  there  also  some  of  them  cluster  at  certain  seasons,  either 
to  feed,  or  to  rear  their  young.  Theirs  are  the  wild  solitudes 
of  Nature — the  ocean,  the  sandy  coast,  the  solitary  lake ;  and 
when  driven  from  these  for  repose  at  night  or  shelter  from 
the  storm,  rocky  isles  far  in  the  ocean's  void,^*  and  rocky 
shores  difficult  of  access,  are  their  resting-places. 

15.  While  the  waders  have  thin  bodies,  that  they  may 
make  their  way  the  more  easily  through  the  rank  water- 
grass  of  the  marshes  which  they  frequent,  those  of  the  swim- 
mers are  broad  and  flat,  to  enable  them  the  better  to  float  on 
the  surface  of  the  water.  The  plumage  of  the  swimming- 
birds  is  also  remarkably  thick  and  close,  especially  on  the  un- 
der parts  of  the  body ;  the  skin  is  covered  with  a  dense' ^ 
coat  of  soft  down ;  and  the  outer  surface  is  polished  and  oily, 
thus  eflectually  protecting  their  bodies  from  the  water,  while 
the  feathers  of  all  land-birds,  on  the  contrary,  are  quickly  sat- 
urated'6  by  it.  The  air  is,  indeed,  made  the  common  element 
of  both  classes  ;  but  the  one  is  so  formed  as  best  to  obtain  its 
support  on  the  water,  the  other  on  the  land :  each  element 
furnishes  the  food  appropriate '"^  for  its  own  tenants  ;'s  and 
thus  every  part  of  nature  teems'^  with  happy,  joyous  Hfe. 

•  1  En-oik'clk,  surround.  I '  i  kv'-rifis  (d'-res),  places  where  birds  of 

3  In-tent',  listening  with  watchful  anxiety,      prey  build  their  nests  and  hatch. 
3  Gl5'-ei-fied,  honored ;  dignified.  12  FoR'-A<"iK,  go  forth  to  collect  their  food. 

*  B.\ED«,  poets,  1 13  Throng,  are  abundant. 

5  Man'-tling,  spreading  (referring  to  the  1*  Void,  empty  space, 
wings).  '*  Densk,  close;  thick. 

6  '■'•  Hku  state  "  her  dignity;  dignified  self.  ^^  Sat'-u-ra-ted,  completely  filled. 
■'  Dank,  moist ;  here  used  for  the  water.       i''  Ap-prO'-psi-ate,  suitable. 

s  Por-tend',  foreshow;  indicate.  '^  Ten'-ants,  inhabitants. 

9  i-dR'-al,  model  of  perfection.  i'  Tkems,  abounds. 

'0  A(i'-iLE,  quick  in  motion ;  active. 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY.  159 


LESSON  XXXI. 

THE  HARMONY  OF  NATURE. 

"  The  ■wood,  the  mountain,  and  the  barren  waste,  the  craggy  rock,  the  river,  and  the 
lake,  are  never  searched  in  vain ;  each  has  its  peculiar  inhabitants,  that  enliven  the 
scene  and  please  the  philosophic  eye." — Montague. 

1.  In  full  accordance  with  the  sentiments  of  the  author  we 
have  quoted  above,  we  have  often  wandered  in  the  recesses  of 
our  woods  and  the  passes  of  far-stretching  and  craggy  mount- 
ains, searched  around  our  wild  or  beautiful  lakes  and  our  pre- 
cipitous sea-coasts,  and  we  have  never  been  disappointed. 

2.  If  we  did  not  always  meet  with  some  species  new  to 
our  collection,  we  found  fresh  facts  to  record  of  those  we  al- 
ready possessed ;  and  we  delighted  in  the  landscape  enliven- 
ed by  the  airy  creatures  whose  structure  we  had  been  exam- 
ining, and  whose  habits  we  could  there  survey  so  freely. 
What  would  be  the  landscape  without  its  living  inhabitants  ? 
The  luxuriance  of  vegetation,  varying  with  beautiful  flowers 
and  rich  foliage,  has  indeed  charms  quiet  and  seducing,  but 
not  such  as  fully  satisfy  the  mind. 

3.  In  the  depth  of  the  forest,  or  on  the  mountain's  top,  ere 
break  of  day  had  awakened  their  various  tenants,  and  in  some 
of  our  beautiful  mornings  of  mid-year,  we  have  seen  how 
deeply  tinted  seemed  the  green  of  the  foliage,  and  how  chaste 
and  blended  were  the  tints  on  the  nearly  barren  rock ;  how 
lovely  the  sylvan  flowers  appeared,  showing  their  freshest 
blossoms  amid  the  soft  and  matted  growth  beneath,  and  how 
exquisite  the  structure  of  the  moss  or  lichen  within  our  reach; 
how  calm,  clear,  and  serene  the  air,  how  deep  the  shadows ; 
but  how  complete  the  quiet,  how  still  the  silence ! 

4.  There  is  something  in  the  gradual  change  from  darkness 
to  daylight  in  places  such  as  these,  which,  while  it  is  pleasing 
and  agreeable  to  witness,  leaves  a  deep  and  impressive  feel- 
ing as  of  something  wanting,  not  to  be  dispelled  by  the  rich- 
est or  most  attractive  vegetation.  Soon,  however,  the  still- 
ness is  broken,  the  various  creatures  go  to  their  usual  occu- 
pations, the  scene  is  at  once  enlivened,  the  void  is  fiHed,  antl 
the  harmony  of  Nature  is  complete.  Sir  Wm.  Jardine. 


160 


willson's  foueth  reader. 


Part  K. 


.:5=s^ 


LESSOl^  XXXII. 

BIRDS  OF  THE  SEA. 
Birds  of  the  sea,  they  rejoice  in 

storms ; 
On  the  top  of  the  waves  you  may 
i  see  their  forms ; 

They  run  and  dive,  and  they  whirl  and  fly, 
Where  the  glittering  foam-spray  breaks  on  high ; 
And  against  the  force  of  the  strongest  gale, 
Like  phantom^  ships,  they  soar  and  sail.        Paek  Benjamin. 


2.  High  o'er  the  restless  deep,  above  the  reach 

Of  gunner's  hopes,  vast  flocks  of  wild  ducks  stretch  ;^ 
Far  as  the  eye  can  glance  on  either  side. 
In  a  broad  space  and  level  line  they  glide ; 
All  in  their  wedge-like  figures  from  the  north, 
Day  after  day,  flight  after  flight,  go  forth. 


3.  In-shore  their  passage  tribes  of  seagulls  urge,' 
And  drop  for  prey  within  the  sweeping  surge ; 
Oft  in  the  rough  opposing  blast  they  fly 
Far  back,  then  turn,  and  all  their  force  apply. 
While  to  the  storm  they  give  their  weak  complaining  cry, 
Or  clap  the  sleek  white  pinion  to  the  breast. 
And  in  the  restless  ocean  dip  for  rest.  Crabp.e. 


Phan'-tom,  unreal ; 
auce  onlv. 


existing  in  appear-'2  Ptrktoo,  sail  away  in  long  linen. 
P  Uu.E,  push  their  way. 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 


161 


LESSON  xxxm. 


THE  STORMY  PETREL  {Procellaria  Pelagica).  VvcA-^>juv- 

1.  This  is  the  bird  that  sweeps  over  the  sea —  ?i»iJvO«? 
Fearless,  and  rapid,  and  strong  is  he ; 

He  never  forsakes  the  billowy  roar 
To  dwell  in  calm  on  the  tranquil  shore, 
Save  when  his  mate,  from  the  tempeit's  shocks, 
Protects  her  young  in  the  splintered  rocks. 

2.  Up  and  down !  up  and  down ! 

From  the  base  of  the  wave  to  the  billow's  crown, 

And  amidst  the  flashing  and  feathery  foam, 

The  Stormy  Petrel  finds  a  home — 

A  home,  if  such  a  place  may  be. 

For  her  who  lives  on  the  wide,  wide  sea, 

On  the  craggy  ice,  in  the  frozen  air. 

And  only  seeketh  her  rocky  lair^ 

To  warm  her  young,  and  teach  them  to  spring 

At  once  o'er  the  waves  on  their  stormy  wing ! 

3.  All  over  the  ocean,  far  from  land, 

Where  the  storm-king  rises,  dark  and  grand, 


162  WILLSOn's  fourth   READEIt.  Part  II. 

The  mariner^  sees  the  Petrel  meet 
The  fathomless^  waves  with  steady  feet, 
And  a  tireless  wing,  and  a  dauntless^  breast, 
Without  a  home  or  a  hope  of  rest. 

4.  O'er  the  deep !  o'er  the  deep ! 

Where  the  whale,  and  the  shark,  and  the  swordfish  sleep : 

Outflying  the  blast  and  the  driving  rain. 

The  Petrel  telleth  her  tale — in  vain ; 

For  the  mariner  curseth  the  warning  bird. 

Which  bringeth  him  news  of  the  storm  unheard ! 

Ah !  thus  does  the  prophet  of  good  or  ill 

Meet  hate  from  the  creatures  he  serveth  still : 

Yet  he  never  falters :  so.  Petrel,  spring 

Once  more  o'er  the  waves  on  thy  stormy  wing ! 

5.  So,  'mid  the  contest  and  toil  of  life. 

My  soul,  when  the  billows  of  rage  and  strife 
Are  tossing  high,  and  the  heavenly  blue 
Is  shrouded^  by  vapors  of  sombre^  hue — 
Like  the  Petrel,  wheeling  o'er  foam  and  spray, 
Onward  and  upward  pursue  thy  way ! 

1  Laib,  resting-place.  1*  Daunt'-less,  bold ;  fearless. 

2  Mae'-i-nee,  seaman ;  a  sailor.  P  Shboud'-ed,  covered ;  concealed. 

3  Fath'-om-less,  the  depth  of  which  can  not  6  S6m'-bee,  dull;  cloudy;  gloomy, 
be  measured.  I 

Note. — The  first,  third,  and  fifth  verses  of  the  foregoing  are  by  Park  Benjamin,  and 
the  second  and  fourth  by  B.^.  Proctor.  The  several  changes  in  rmetre  render  it  a  diffi- 
cult but  useful  reading  exercise. 


LESSON  XXXIV. 
TO  A  WATER-FOWL. 
Whithek,  midst  falling  dew, 
While  glow  the  heavens  with  the  last  steps  of  day, 
Far,  through  the  rosy  depths,  dost  thou  pursue 
Thy  solitary  way  ? 

Vainly  the  fowler's^  eye 
Might  mark  thy  distant  flight  to  do  thee  wrong, 
As,  darkly  painted  on  the  crimson  sky, 

Thy  figure  floats  along. 


2d  Div.  OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  163 

3.  Seek'st  thou  the  plashy^  brink 

Of  weedy  lake,  or  marge^  of  river  wide,  •► 

Or  where  the  rocky  billows  rise  and  sink 
On  the  chafed*  ocean's  side  ? 

4.  There  is  a  Power  whose  care 
Teaches  thy  way  along  that  pathless  coast — 
The  desert  and  illimitable^  air — 

Lone  wandering,  but  not  lost. 

5.  All  day  thy  wings  have  fanned. 

At  that  far  height,  the  cold,  thin  atmosphere ; 
Yet  stoop  not,  weary,  to  the  welcome  land, 
Though  the  dark  night  is  near. 

6.  And  soon  that  toil  shall  end ; 

Soon  shalt  thou  find  a  summer,  home,  and  rest. 
And  scream  among  thy  fellows ;  reeds  shall  bend 
Soon  o'er  thy  sheltered  nest. 

7.  Thou'rt  gone !  the  abyss^  of  heaven 
Hath  swallowed  up  thy  form ;  yet,  on  my  heart 
Deeply  has  sunk  the  lesson  thou  hast  given. 

And  shall  not  goon  depart. 

8.  He  who,  from  zone  to  zone. 

Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 
In  the  long  way  that  I  must  tread  alone 

Will  lead  my  steps  aright.  Bryant. 

1  Fowl'-ee,  one  who  hunts  wild  fowls.  1*  Chafed,  worn  by  the  waves. 

2  I'LAsn'-Y,  watery.  5  Il-l,!m'-it-a-ble,  boundless, 
'  MiBGE,  for  margin.                                        1^  A-byss',  boundless  space. 


BIRDS  OF  PASSAGE  BY  NIGHT. 

I  hear  the  beat  of  their  pinions  fleet, 
As  from  the  land  of  snow  and  sleet 

They  seek  a  south^-n  sea : 
I  hear  the  cry  of  their  voices  high. 
Falling  dreamily  through  the  sky. 

But  their  forms  I  can  not  see. 

Longfellow. 


1C4 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH   EEADEB. 


Fakt  II. 


LESSON  XXXV. 

WHAT  IS  THAT,  MOTHER? 

1 .  "  What  is  that,  mother  ?'' 

"Thelark,  my  child; 
The  morn  has  but  just  looked  out  and  smiled, 
When  he  starts  from  his  humble,  grassy  nest, 
And  is  up  and  away,  with  the  dew  on  his  breast. 
And  a  hymn  in  his  heart,  to  yon  pure,  bright  sphere, 
To  warble  it  out  in  his  Maker's  ear. 
Ever,  my  child,  be  thy  morn's  first  lays 
Tuned,  like  the  lark's,  to  thy  Maker's  praise." 


2.  "  What  is  that,  mother  ?" 

"  The  dove,  my  son ; 
And  that  low,  sweet  voice,  like  the  widow's  moan, 
Is  flowing  out  from  her  gentle  breast. 
Constant  and  pure,  by  that  lonely  nest. 
As  the  wave  is  poured  from  some  crystal  urn. 
For  her  distant  dear  one's  quick  return. 
Ever,  my  son,  be  thou  like  the  dove ; 
In  friendship  as  faithful,  as  constant  in  love." 


3.  "  What  is  that,  mother  ?" 


^^^r^-  '^  "The  eagle,  my  boy. 

Proudly  careering  ys  course  of  joy ; 
Firm,  in  his  own  mountain  vigor  relying ; 
Breasting  the  dark  storm ;  the  red  bolt  defying : 
His  wing  on  the  wind,  and  his  eye  on  the  sun. 
He  swerves  not  a  hair,  but  bears  onward,  right  on. 


2d  Div.  OF  ......  .  ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY.  165 

Boy,  may  the  eagle's  flight  ever  be  thine, 
Onward,  and  upward,  and  true  to  the  line." 


4.  "  What  is  that,  mother  ?" 

"  The  swan,  my  love. 
He  is  floating  down  from  his  native  grove ; 
No  loved  one  now,  no  nestling  nigh ; 
He  is  floating  down,  by  himself,  to  die. 
Death  darkens  his  eye,  and  unplumes  his  wings ; 
Yet  his  sweetest  song  is  the  last  he  sings. 
Live  so,  my  love,  that  when  death  shall  come, 
Swanlike  and  sweet  it  may  waft  thee  home." 

DOANB. 


LESSON  XXXVI. 
THE  BIRDS  OF  HEAVEN.      ' 

1.  Hark  to  Nature's  lesson,  given 
By  the  blessed  birds  of  heaven^ ! 
Every  bush  and  tufted  tree 
Warbles  sweet  philosophy : 

"  Mortal',  fly  from  doubt  and  sorrow^ ; 
God  provideth  for  the  morrow. 

2.  "  Say\  have  kings  more  wholesome  fare 
Than  we,  poor  citizens  of  air'  ? 

Barns  nor  hoarded  grain  have  we, 
Yet  we  carol  merrily. 
Mortal',  fly  from  doubt  and  sorrow ; 
God  provideth  for  the  morrow. 

8.  "  One  there  lives,  who.  Lord  of  all, 
Keeps  our  feathers  lest  they  fair  : 
Pass  we  blithely,  then,  the  time, 
Fearless  of  the  snare  and  lime. 
Free  from  doubt  and  faithless  sorrow : 
God  provideth  for  the  morrow." 


Bishop  Heber. 


166 


willson's  foueth  reader. 


Part  II. 


XXXVII.  QUESTIONS  TO  THE  BIRDS,  AND  THEIR  ANSWERS. 

1.    THE   EAGLE. 

Aet  thou  the  king  of  birds,  proud  eagle'  ?  Say^ ! 
"  I  am^ ;  my  talons  and  my  beak  bear  sway^ ; 
A  greater  king  than  I  if  thou  wouldst  be', 
-;  f^'  Govern  thy  tongue,  but  let  thy  thoughts  be  free." 

2.  VULTURES. 

Abominable  harpiesM^  spare  the  deadM 
"We  only  clear  the  field  which  man  has  spread ; 
On  which  should  Heaven  its  hottest  vengeance  rain^  ? 
j^^i"-^**   You  slay  the  living — we  but  strip  the  slain." 

3.  THE    OWL. 

Blear-eyed,2  strange-voiced,  sharp-beaked,  ill- 
omened  fowl', 
What  art  thou^  ?    "What  I  ought  to  l^e — an  owl ; 
But  if  I'm  such  a  scarecrow^  in  your  eye. 
You're  a  much  greater  fright  in  mine — good-by !" 

4.  THE  SWALLOW.  [wing^  ? 

~  Swallow',  why  homeward  turned  thy  joyful 
"  In  a  far  land  I  heard  the  voice  of  Spring ; 
I  found  myself  that  moment  on  the  way ; 
My  wings,  my  wings,  they  had  not  power  to  stay." 

5.   THE   CANAET. 

Dost  thou  not  languish*  for  thy  father- 
land',. 
Madeira's  fragrant  woods  and  billowy  strand'  ?^ 
"  My  cage  is  father-land  enough  for  me ; 
Your  parlor  all  the  world — sky,  earth,  and  sea." 

^"^^Ijtt^  6-   THE   HUMMING-BIED. 

3|f/^      ^^'  ^  Art  thou  a  bird',  or  bee',  or  butterfly^? 
^f  "  Each,  and  all  three.     A  bird  in  shape  am  I ; 

A  bee,  collecting  sweets  from  bloom  to  bloom  ; 
/  A  butterfly  in  brilliancy  of  plume." 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 


167 


7.   THE  WOODPECKER. 

^J^^^  Rap,  rap — rap,  rap — I  hear  thy  knocking  bill, 
Then  thy  strange  outcry,  when  the  woods  are  still. 
"  Thus  am  I  ever  laboring  for  my  bread. 
And  thus  give  thanks  to  find  my  table  spread." 

8.   THE  PARROT. 

Parrot',  why  hast  thou  learned  by  rote^  to  speak 
Words  without  meaning  through  thy  uncouth  beak^  ? 
"  Words  have  I  learned'  ?  and  without  meaning  too'  ? 
N"o  wonder,  sir — for  I  was  taught  by  y6u\" 

y  9.    CHANTICLEER.  [cOUnt^? 

:^  ~-  "  Who  taught  thee,  Chanticleer,  the  time  to 
''  Learn  from  my  voice  Time's  worth  and  its  amount. 
Long  before  wheels  and  bells  had  learned  to  chime,"' 
I  told  the  steps  unseen,  unheard,  of  Time." 

10.   THE   PHEASANT.  ^^^^^. . 

Pheasant',  forsake   the    country^  come   to 
I'll  warrant  thee  a  place  beneath  the  crown. 
''  No  ;  not  to  roost  upon  the  throne,  would  I 
Renounce  the  woods,  the  mountains,  and  the  sky." 

V  I  11.   THE   STORK.  r^^^^r  9 

?t^^!c  Stork',  why  were  human  virtues  given  to 
That  human  beings  might  resemble  me : 
Kind  to  my  ofispring,  to  my  partner  true, 
And  duteous  to  my  parents — what  are  you  ?" 

12.    ROBIN   AND   SPARROW. 

;^  Familiar  warbler',  wherefore  art  thou  come^  ? 
sing  to  thee  when  all  beside  are  dumb ; 
Pray  let  the  little  children  drop  a  crumb." 
Sparrow',  the  gun  is  leveled  f  quit  that  wall ! 
"  Without  the  will  of  Heaven  I  can  not  fall." 

James  Montgomery. 


1  Hau'-pib$,  plunderers. 

2  Bleae'-etet),  dim-sighted. 

3  S€ABE'-f  ROW,  a  frightful  thing. 

*  Lan'-guish,  pine  ;  lose  animation. 


j5  Strand,  shore  of  the  ocean.        [meaning, 
'e  Rote,  repetition  without  attending  to  the 
h  CniME,  agree;  harmonize. 
!»  Lev'-eled,  aimed. 


168 


willson's  foueth  keadee. 


P.VRT  II. 


LESsoi^  xxxvm. 

A  SOUTH  SEA  ROOKERY  (moerell). 


1.    A    ROOKEEY    IS    a 

temporary  encampment 
of  oceanic^  birds,  for  the 
purpose  of  bringing  forth 
their  young ;  and  they  unite  in  immense  numbers,  and  with 
great  industry,  to  construct  it.  When  a  sufficient  number  of 
penguins,  albatrosses,  etc.,  are  assembled  on  the  shore,  they 
appear  to  hold  a  deliberate  consultation,  and  then  proceed  to 
the  execution  of  the  grand  purpose  for  which  they  left  their 
favorite  element. 

2.  In  the  first  place,  they  carefully  select  a  level  piece  of 
ground,  of  suitable  extent,  and  as  near  the  water  as  practica- 
ble, always  preferring  that  which  is  the  least  encumbered^ 
with  stones  and  other  hard  substances,  with  which  it  would 
be  dangerous  to  have  their  eggs  come  in  contact.    As  soon 


2d  DiV.  OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY.  169 

as  they  are  satisfied  on  this  point,  they  proceed  to  lay  out  the 
plan  of  their  projected^  encampment,  which  task  they  com- 
mence by  .tracing  a  well-defined  parallelogram,*  of  sufficient 
magnitude  to  accommodate  the  whole  fraternity,  and  often 
containing  several  acres. 

3.  One  side  of  this  encampment  runs  parallel  with  the  wa- 
ter's edge,  and  is  always  left  open ;  the  other  three  sides  are 
differently  arranged.  These  industrious  feathered  laborers 
next  proceed  to  clear  all  the  ground  within  the  limits  from 
obstructions  of  every  kind,  picking  up  the  stones  in  their 
bills,  and  carefully  depositing  them  outside  of  the  lines,  until 
they  sometimes,  by  this  means,  create  quite  a  wall  on  three 
sides  of  the  rookery. 

4.  Within  this  range  of  stones  and  rubbish  they  form  a 
pathway  six  or  eight  feet  in  width,  and  as  smooth  as  any  of 
the  paved  or  graveled  walks  in  the  New  York  Park  or  on 
the  Battery.  This  path  is  for  a  general  promenade^  by  day, 
and  for  the  sentinel  to  patroP  by  night. 

5.  Having  thus  finished  their  little  works  of  defense  on  the 
three  land  sides,  they  next  lay  out  the  whole  encampment  in 
little  squares  of  equal  size,  forming  narrow  paths,  which  cross 
each  other  at  right  angles,  and  which  are  also  very  smooth. 
At  each  intersection"^  of  these  paths  an  albatross  constructs 
her  nest,  while  in  the  centre  of  each  little  square  is  a  pen- 
guin's nest;  so  that  each  albatross  is  surrounded  by  four 
penguins,  and  each  penguin  has  an  albatross  for  its  neighbor 
in  four  directions. 

6.  In  this  regular  manner  is  the  whole  space  occupied  by 
these  feathered  sojourners  of  different  species — leaving,  at 
convenient  distances,  accommodations  for  some  other  kinds 
of  oceanic  birds,  such  as  the  shag,  or  the  green  cormorant, 
and  another  which  the  seamen  call  Nelly.  Although  the 
penguin  and  the  albatross  are  on  such  intimate  terms,  and  ap- 
pear to  be  so  affectionately  and  sincerely  attached  to  each 
other,  they  not  only  form  their  nests  in  a  very  different  man- 
ner, but  the  penguin  will  even  rob  her  friend's  nest  whenever 
she  has  an  opportunity. 

7.  The  penguin's  nest  is  merely  a  slight  excavation®  in  the 
earth,  just  deep  enough  to  prevent  her  single  q^^  from  roll- 

H 


170  wiixson's  fourth  EEADEB.  Part  IL 

ing  away;  while  the  albatross  throws  up  a  little  mound  of 
earth,  grass,  and  shells,  eight  or  ten  inches  high,  and  about 
the  size  of  a  water-bucket,  on  the  summit  of  which  she  forms 
her  nest,  and  thus  looks  down  upon  her  nearest  neighbors 
and  best  friends. 

8.  None  of  the  nests  of  these  rookeries  are  ever  left  unoc- 
cupied for  a  single  moment  until  the  eggs  are  hatched  and 
the  young  ones  old  enough  to  take  care  of  themselves,  for 
the  females  are  so  ambitious  of  producing  a  large  family,  that 
they  rob  each  other  whenever  they  have  an  opportunity. 

9.  The  royal  penguin  is  commonly  foremost  in  felonies^  of 
this  description,  and  never  neglects  an  opportunity  of  robbing 
her  neighbor.  Indeed,  it  often  happens  that,  when  the  period 
of  incubation  is  terminated,  the  young  brood  will  consist  of 
three  or  four  different  kinds  of  birds  in  one  nest.  This  is 
strong  circumstantial  evidence  that  the  parent  bird  is  no 
more  honest  than  her  neighbors. 

10.  To  stand  at  a  distance,  and  observe  the  birds  in  these 
rookeries,  is  not  only  amusing,  but  edifying^^  and  affecting. 
The  spectacle  is  truly  worthy  the  contemplation^i  of  a  philo- 
sophic mind.  You  w^ill  see  them  marching  round  the  en- 
campment in  the  outside  path,  or  public  promenade,  in  pairs, 
or  in  parties  of  four,  six,  or  eight,  forcibly  reminding  you  of 
officers  and  soldiers  on  a  parade -day.  At  the  same  time, 
the  camp  or  rookery  is  in  continual  motion,  some  penguins 
passing  through  the  different  paths  or  alleys  on  their  return 
from  an  aquatic  excursion,  eager  to  caress  their  mates  after  a 
temporary  absence,  while  the  latter  are  passing  out,  in  their 
turn,  in  quest  of  refreshment  and  recreation. 

11.  At  the  same  time  the  air  is  almost  darkened  with  an 
immense  number  of  the  albatrosses  hovering  over  the  rook- 
ery like  a  dense  cloud,  some  continually  lightin?:  and  meet- 
ing their  companions,  while  others  are  constantly  rising  and 
shaping  their  course  toward  the  sea. 


'  0-ce-an'-i€  (o-s^-zln'-zi),  pertaining  to 
tho  occnn,  or  {jroat  pea. 

2  ION-<f  m'-uerep,  fillcfl  up  ;  obstructed. 

3  Pbo-.tkct'-et),  devised ;  deteiinined  upon. 
-  Tar^al-t^kl'-o-ouam,  a  four-nldcd  | , 

flpruro  of  more  length  than  breadth.  ' ' 

5  I^bom-e-nade',  a  place  for  walking. 


6  Pa-tr^-l',  to  march  about,  and  observe 
•what  passes. 

7  In-tfjj-8k€'-tion,  crossing. 

8  Ex-rA-VA'-TiON,  hollow. 

9  FKT/-0-TSIE3,  thefts ;  stealing. 

10  f:i)'-t-F?-iN«,  instructive. 

'1  €oN-TKM-rT,A'-TioN,  meditation ;  study. 


1st  DlV.  OP  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OK   BOTAJJY. 


171 


PAET  III. 

FIRST  DIVISION  OF  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY, 
OR  BOTANY  * 

(this  subject  is  continued  in  the  fitth  reader.) 


LESSON  I. 
THE  VEGETABLE  KINGDOM. 
1.  The  first  notice  we  have  of  that  part  of  the  world  around 
us  which  bears  the  name  of  the  vegetable  kingdom,  is  in  the 
first  chapter  of  the  Bible,  where  we  are  told  that  on  the  third 
day  of  the  creation  God  said,  "  Let  the  earth  bring  forth 
grass,  the  herb  yielding  seed,  and  the  fruit-tree  yielding  fruit 
after  his  kind,  whose  seed  is  in  itself  upon  the  earth." 

*  The  science  of  BOTANY,  so  called  from  the  Greek  word  hofane  (poravri)^  a  plant, 
has  been  divided  by  botanists  into  three  parts  :  Ist.  f  )kganograpiiy,  which  treats  of  the 
structure  or  anatomy  of  plants  ;  2d.  Vegetabt.e  T^nYsiOT^OGY,  which  treats  of  the  func- 
tions of  their  several  parts  —  the  way  a  plant  lives  and  grows,  etc.  ;  and,  3d.  Desokiptivk 
Botany,  which  treats  of  the  classification  of  plants,  their  geographical  distribution,  and 
the  general  characteristics  of  the  most  important  vegetable  productions. 


172  willson's  fourth  reader.  Pabt  III. 

2.  At  the  command  of  the  Almighty  the  mysteries  of  vege- 
table life  began  to  start  into  being ;  shrubs  and  flowers  adorn- 
ed the  fields,  lofty  trees  waved  in  the  forests,  and  herbs  and 
grasses  covered  the  ground  with  verdure/^  It  was  only  after 
the  earth  had  thus  been  robed  in  beauty  that  it  brought  forth 
abimdantly  "  cattle  and  creeping  things,"  and  "  every  living 
creature  after  its  kind."  Thus  vegetables  rank  first  in  order 
in  the  scale  of  creation.  Being  designed  for  the  support  of 
animal  life,  they  are  universally  diffused^  over  our  globe — 
throughout  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold — even  in  the  wa- 
ters of  the  sea  as  well  as  on  the  land. 

3.  Wherever  the  eye  is  directed  it  encounters  an  infinite 
multitude  of  the  most  dissimilar  forms  of  vegetation.  Some 
are  cast  ashore  by  the  waters  of  the  sea  in  the  shape  of  leath- 
ery straps  or  thongs,  or  are  collected  in  ocean  meadows  of 
vast  extent ;  others  crawl  out  of  the  crevices  of  dank^  and 
loathsome  mines,  where  the  light  of  day  never  penetrates ; 
in  rivers  and  tranquil  waters  are  found  living  threads  of 
green;  mud  throws  up  its  jelly-like  scum  ;  filthy  dregs  of  all 
kinds  bring  forth  their  living  brood  of  microscopic*  plants ; 
corn  crops  change  to  fetid^  soot ;  rust  and  mildew  blight  our 
grains  ;  and  all  matter  in  decay  is  seen  to  teem^  with  mouldy 
life.  All  these  forms  belong  to  the  lower  orders  of  the  vege- 
table world. 

4.  If  we  rise  higher  in  the  scale,  this  never-ending  diversity 
opens  a  world  of  beauty  to  our  view.  The  bark  of  ancient 
trees  is  covered  Avith  velvet ;  their  branches  are  himg  with  a 
gray-beard  tapestry;'''  and  grandeur  and  gloom  overspread 
the  forest  world.  The  scene  changes  in  the  more  open  land- 
scape. There  heaths  and  moors  wave  with  a  tough  and  wiry 
herbage ;  meadows  are  clothed  with  an  emerald^  mantle, 
amid  which  spring  up  flowers  'of  all  hues  and  forms ;  bushes 
throw  abroad  their  many-fashioned  foliage,  and  twining  vines 
scramble  over  and  choke  them. 

5.  The  individual  forms  of  vegetation  also  change  at  every 
step.  With  every  altered  condition  and  circumstance  new 
plants  start  up.  The  mountain  side  has  its  o^vn  races  of  vege- 
table inhabitants,  and  tlie  valleys  have  theirs ;  the  tribes  of 
the  sand,  the  granite,  and  the  limestone  are  all  different ;  and 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OR  BOTANY. 


173 


the  Sim  does  not  shine  upon  two  degrees  on  the  surface  of 
this  globe,  the  vegetation  of  which  is  identical,^  for  every  lati- 
tude has  a  flora^o  of  its  own.  In  short,  the  forms  of  seas, 
lakes,  and  rivers,  islands  and  peninsulas,  hills,  valleys,  plains, 
and  mountains,  are  not  so  infinitely  diversified^^  as  the  vege- 
tation which  adorns  them. 

6.  In  all  ages  of  the  world,  flowers,  the  crowning  glory  of 
plants,  have  been  especially  regarded  as  things  of  beauty,  and 
emblems  of  innocence  and  virtue.  Many  of  the  finest  poet- 
ical images  in  all  languages  are  drawn  from  them.  Our 
Lord  alludes  to  the  "  lilies  of  the  field,"  to  convince  his  people 
of  God's  care  for  them.  He  says,  "  Consider  the  lilies  of  the 
field,  how  they  grow :  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin ; 
and  yet  I  say  unto  you  that  Solomon,  in  all  his  glory,  Avas  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these.  Wherefore,  if  God  so  clothe  the  * 
grass  of  the  field,  which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into 
the  oven,  shall  he  not  much  more  clothe  you,  O  ye  of  little 
faith?" 

v.  That  eminent  American  botanist.  Professor  Gray,  in 
quoting  this  passage,  remarks,  "  When  Christ  himself  directs 
us  to  consider  with  attention  the  plants  around  us — to  notice 
how  they  grow — how  varied,  how  numerous,  and  how  ele- 
gant they  are,  and  with  what  exquisite  skill  they  are  fashion- 
ed and  adorned,  we  shall  surely  find  it  profitable  and  pleasant 
to  learn  the  lessons  which  they  teach." 

8.         *  *  Thou  wert  not,  Solomon !  in  all  thy  glory, 
Arrayed,  the  lilies  cry,  in  robes  like  ours ; 
How  vain  your  grandeur!     Ah !  how  transitorv^^ 
Are  human  flowers  !" — Horace  Smith. 

"Whate'er  man  finds 
Of  flavor  or  of  scent  in  fruit  or  flower. 
Or  what  he  views  of  beautiful  or  grand 
In  nature,  from  the  broad  majestic  oak 
To  the  green  blade  that  twinkles  in  the  sun, 
Prompts^^  with  remembrance  of  a  present  God." — Cowper. 

1  VEBD'-rEK,  greenness ;  vegetation. 

2  Dif-fC#ed',  spread  abroad. 

3  Dank,  damp  ;  moist. 

*  MT-f-EO-scov'-if,  very  small. 
5  Fet'-id,  rank ;  offensive  to  the  smell. 

•  Tkem,  abound. 
'  Tap'-es-try,  woven  hangings  for  walls. 


8  iCM'-E-RAtD,  bright  green. 

9  i-I)kn'-ti-€al,  tlie  same  ;  not  diflfcrent. 

10  Flo'-ka,  a  collection  of  trees  and  phuifs 
of  a  particular  country. 

11  Di-vek'-si-fied,  varied. 

12  Tran'-si-to-ry,  passing  away  quickly. 

13  Prompts,  suggests;  remind?. 


174 


WrLLSON  S   FOURTH   READER. 


Part  in. 


LESSON  11. 

INTRODUCTORY  VIEW  OF  BOTANY. 
Fig.  1. 


-^ 


Oak. 


Fir-trees, 
roplar. 

Morning-glory. 

EX-0(i'-EN-OUS  PLANTS. 


WiUow. 


Date-palm.  Banana. 

False  Sago  Palm  (Cycas). 

Indian  Com. 

EN-D06'-EN-0US  PLANTS. 


1.  "How  can  children  gain  a  knowledge  of  botany^? 
Can  not  the  difficulties  which  are  said  to .  accompany  the 
study  of  this  branch  of  science  be,  by  some  little  contrivance, 
either  removed  altogether  or  very  much  diminished'  ?  Al- 
low me,  in  answer  to  this  question,  to  repeat  a  fable  which  I 
remember  to  have  read  in  some  French  author. 

2.  "  A  lady,  observing  some  ants  traveling  across  a  table, 
dropped  a  lump  of  sugar  in  the  midst  of  them ;  but,  to  her 
surprise,  although  ants  are  noted  sugar-eaters,  they  all  re- 
treated in  terror  from  the  spot,  nor  could  any  of  them  after- 
ward find  courage  to  return  to  examine  the  object  of  their 
dread ;  on  the  contrary,  they  chose  another  track,  and  care- 
fully avoided  that  which  would  have  proved  a  treasure  had 
they  known  its  value. 


I 

1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OR  BOTANY.  175 

3.  "  Struck  by  this  occurrence,  the  lady  placed  the  same 
piece  of  sugar  on  a  part  of  the  table  near  which  the  ants  were 
in  the  habit  of  crossing,  and,  when  she  saw  one  of  them  ap- 
proaching it,  she  gently  placed  her  finger  in  his  way,  so  as  to 
obstruct  his  passage  without  alarming  him.  The  ant  paused, 
looked  around  him,  and  then  took  a  new  direction,  not  ex- 
actly toward  the  sugar,  but  near  it. 

4.  "The  lady  again  opposed  his  passage  gently,  and  at 
last,  by  making  him  take  a  sort  of  zigzag^  direction,  as  it 
were,  at  every  few  steps,  the  ant  was  unconsciously^  brought, 
to  the  sugar  without  being  frightened.  Once  there,  he  ex- 
amined the  glittering  rock  attentively,  touched  it  cautiously, 
broke  off  a  morsel,  and  hastened  away  with  it  to  the  ant-hill, 
whence  he  presently  returned  at  the  head  of  a  host  of  his 
comrades,  by  whom  the  rest  of  the  sugar  was  quickly  car- 
ried off. 

5.  "So  it  is  with  the  science  of  Botany,  and  the  young 
who  have  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  it.  Let  them  be  once 
alarmed  at  the  aspect^  of  their  new  pursuit,  and  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  restore  their  confidence ;  but  there  are  few  who, 
if  led  to  it  insensibly,  will  not  persevere  until  they  have  made 
themselves  masters  of  the  subject." 

6.  Such  are  the  remarks  by  which  an  eminent  English  bot- 
anist. Dr.  Lindley,  introduces  one  of  his  valuable  works  to  the 
beginner  in  botanical  studies.  Like  him,  we  would  imitate 
the  discretion  of  the  lady  in  the  fable ;  and,  as  we  would  not 
wish  to  frighten  our  youthful  readers  at  the  outset,  we  shall 
not  build  up  a  hedge  of  technical*  terms  for  them  to  climb 
over  before  they  can  enter  the  field  to  which  we  invite  them. 

1.  At  the  beginning  of  this  lesson  we  have  given  an  en- 
graving of  an  oak-tree,  the  pride  of  American  forests,  and  a ' 
date-palm,  a  native  of  tropical  climes,  each  surrounded  by  its 
kindred  species  of  vegetation.  The  contrast^  of  the  widely- 
different  forms  of  the  oak  and  the  palm,  and  of  the  seeds 
from  which  they  sprung,  shall  serve  as  the  basis  on  which  to 
construct  our  first  lesson  in  botany,  and  for  pointing  out  the 
two  great  divisions  of  the  vegetable  world.  In  the  following 
language  Mrs.  Howitt  has  very  prettily  described  the  "  sprout- 
ing oak-tree :" 


176  willson's  foijeth  eeadee.  Part  m. 

"The  oak-tree  was  an  acorn  once,  that  fell  upon  the  earth; 
And  sun  and  showers  nourished  it,  and  gave  the  oak-tree  birth ; 
The  little  sprouting  oak-tree !  two  leaves  it  had  at  first, 
Till  sun  and  showers  nourished  it,  then  out  the  branches  burst." 

8.  The  oak-tree  and  the  date-palm,  different  as  they  are  in 
structure  and  appearance,  are  not  more  unlike  than  the  acorn 
and  the  date  seed.  The  most  careless  observer  must  have 
noticed  the  difference  between  a  bean  or  pea  and  a  kernel  of 
wheat  or  corn,  as  well  as  in  the  leaves  and  stems  of  the  plants 
themselves.  Acorns,  beans,  and  peas  are  easily  split  or  di- 
vided into  their  two  lobes  f  while  the  date  seeds  and  grains 
of  wheat  and  corn  seem  to  consist  of  a  single  mass,  whicli  is 
with  more  difficulty  split  or  broken. 

9.  The  more  careful  observer  has  noticed  that  the  stem, 
leaves,  and  external  covering  of  plants  growing  from  two- 
lobed  or  two-parted  seeds  differ  from  the  corresponding  parts 
of  those  springing  from  undivided  seeds.  The  two-lobed 
seeds  produce  at  first  two  seed-leaves ;  a  stem  grows  up  that 
has  a  woody  structure,  surrounded  by  a  softer  covering  or 
bark,  and  the  leaves  are  furnished  with  veins  extending  in 
different  directions,  and  presenting  a  net-like  appearance. 

10.  Such  are  found  in  the  oak,  the  maple,  the  pines,  and 
other  fir-trees — in  all  the  common  trees  of  northern  forests — 
and  also  in  the  bean,  the  pea,  and  the  morning-glory.  The 
undivided  seeds,  on  the  contrary,  produce  a  single  leaf  at 
first;  a  stem  grows  up  that  has  a  reed-like  arrangement, 
without  bark  or  soft  external  covering,  and  the  leaves  have 
parallel  veins.  This  kind  of  vegetable  growth  may  be  seen 
in  a  palm-stem,  a  ratan,"^  a  corn-stalk,  and  in  different  kinds 
of  grain  and  the  grasses. 

11.  Plants  of  the  first  division  are  w^hat  botanists  call  ex 
ogenous^  or  outward-growing,  because  they  grow  by  addi- 
tions to  their  outward  surface,  while  the  older  and  harder 
portions  are  the  central  parts.  Those  of  the  second  division 
are  called  endogenous^  or  inward-growing,  because  they  grow 
by  internal  additions,  which  constantly  push  the  older  and 
harder  portions  outward.  Thus  the  outward  portion  of  our 
forest  trees — ^the  sap-wood — is  the  softest ;  but  the  outward 
portion  of  the  sugar-cane,  or  of  a  corn-stalk,  is  the  hardest. 


1st  Dir.  OF  .  .VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OE   BOTANY.  Ill 

12.  Those  who  have  taken  this  first  step  in  botany  will 
now  be  able  to  divide  plants,  trees,  shrubs,  and  flowering 
plants  generally,  into  their  two  leading  classes,  from  the 
structiire^°  of  their  stems,  bark,  and  leaves.  They  will  see 
that  it  requires  no  "  mystical  lore"^^  to  give  a  partial  descrip- 
tion of  a  tree,  shrub,  or  herb,  from  the  examination  of  a  single 
seed.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  understanding  this,  yet  it  con- 
stitutes one  of  the  most  important  lessons  in  botany. 

13.  Let  us  then  enter,  without  hesitation,  upon  this  inter- 
esting scienccf-that  we  may  gain  a  knowledge  of  Plants,  in 
respect  to  their  organization, ^2  their  growth,  and  the  proper- 
ties'^  and  characteristics^'^  by  which  they  are  classified  and 
distinguished.  It  is  a  science  in  which -Solomon  deHghted; 
for  he  wrote  about  plants,  "from  the  cedar-tree  that  is  in 
Lebanon,  even  unto  the  hyssop  that  springeth  out  of  the  wall." 

**  The  vegetable  world,  each  plant  and  tree, 
Its  seed,  its  name,  its  nature,  its  degree. 
He  was  allowed,  as  Fame  reports,  to  know ; 
From  the  fair  cedar  on  the  craggy  brow 
Of  Lebanon,  nodding  supremely  tall. 
To  creeping  moss,  and  hyssop  on  the  wall." 

14.  Botany,  moreover,  is  a  science  that  will  create  for  us  a 
new  world  of  life,  teeming^^  with  ever-varying  forms  of 
beauty;  it  will  present  strange  mysteries  in  the  most  com- 
mon objects  around  us ;  and  it  will  unfold^^  many  lessons  of 
the  "  wisdom  of  God  in  creation."  It  will  furnish  us  instruct- 
ive companions  wherever  we  are ;  and  whether  we  wander 
by  the  road-side,  in  meadows  and  gardens,  or  on  mountains, 
it  will  open  to  us  the  great  volume  of  Nature  —  a  volume 
written  "  in  the  only  language  which  has  gone  forth  to  the 
ends  of  the  world,  unaffected  by  the  confusion  of  Babel." 


1  Zig'-zag,  having  frequent  short  turns. 

2  Un-€5n'-8ciou8-lt,  without  knowledge. 

3  A8'-PE€T,  appearance. 

*  T£€h'-ni€-al,  such  aa  belong  to  some  art 

or  profession ;  not  common. 
5  C6n'-tbabt,  different  or  opposite  appear- 


6  I.0BB8,  parts  ;  natural  divisions. 

■f  Rat-an',  a  species  of  cane  with  joints,  but 

without  branches. 
8  Ex-Sg'-b-noub,  outward-growing. 


9  En-dog'-e-nous,  inward-growing. 

10  Struct'-uee,  internal  formation. 

11  "Mysticai.    loee,"    secret   or    obscure 
learning. 

12  Or-gan-i-za'-tion,  structure ;    arrange- 
ment of  parts. 

'3  Pk(5p'-er-tibs,  peculiar  qualities. 
'*  £!nAB-A€-TEE-i8'-Ti€8,  whatever  marks  oi 
denotes  the  qualities  of  a  thing. 

15  Teem'-inq,  abounding. 

16  Un-fSld',  discover ;  display. 


H2 


178  WILLSON's  FOURTH  EEADEE.  Part  III. 


LESSON  m. 

THE  ELEMENTARY  PARTS  OF  PLANTS.— CELL  LIFE. 

1.  All  plants,  from  the  gigantic  cypress-trees  of  California 
to  the  microscopic  vegetation  growing  as  mould  on  bread,  or 
mildew  on  articles  of  clothing,  consist  of  separate  and  minute 
sacs,  usually  adherent^  together,  and  called  cells.  The  first 
thing  we  can  detect,  as  a  seed  begins  to  form  in  the  living 
plant,  is  a  little  cell,  much  smaller  than  the  point  of  the  finest 
needle,  and  visible  only  by  the  aid  of  the  microscope.  Gradu- 
ally this  little  cell  gix)ws  ;  then  it  divides  into  two,  or  another 
little  cell  is  added  to  it ;  soon  more  cells  are  added ;  and  by 
the  time  the  growing  seed  is  large  enough  to  be  seen  by  the 
naked  eye,  it  consists  of  a  cluster  or  mass  of  these  little  cells 
adhering  together.     (Fig.  2.) 

2.  After  increasing  in  number  for  some  time  in  this  way, 
some  of  these  clusters  grow  into  the  form  of  a  leaf,  and  others 
into  the  form  of  a  little  root.  Some,  however,  have  tico  seed 
leaves,  and  some  have  only  one^  thus  early  marking  out  the 
two  great  classes  of  vegetable  growth  which  we  have  already 
described.  Thus,  in  the  very  seed  itself,  the  germ^  of  the 
future  plant  lies  hidden ;  even  there  the  giant  oak  lies  wrap- 
ped up  in  its  little  acorn  cradle,  a  small  thing  then,  yet  des- 
tined to  be  not  only  the  monarch  of  the  woods,  but  the  father 
of  mighty  forests  yet  to  cover  the  earth. 

3.  Such  are  the  wonders — the  mighty  results — which  flow 
from  so  small  a  thing  as  a  single  seed.  And  may  it  not  be 
that  the  Almighty  formed  but  07ie  acorn  at  the  time  of  crea- 
tion, and  that  in  its  little  germ — even  in  its  central  cell^he 
folded  up — so  small  that  none  but  Omniscience^  could  see  it 


T''ig.  2 The  process  of  cell  growtli  is  here  illustrated.     At  1  is 

shown  a  highly  magnified  cell,  as  first  seen  by  the  microscope.     The 

minute  germ  increases  by  the  addition  of  other  cells, 

until,  in  6  and  7,  the  outlines  of  a  leaf 

are  visible.  fl  f^) 

3         ■ 


I  of  a  leaf 

4    i 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OE   BOTAITSr.  179 

— the  oak  which  was  to  grow  from  it,  and  all  the  acorn  seeds 
which  it  was  to  produce ;  and  in  those  acorn  seeds  all  the 
vast  forests  of  oak  that  have  since  covered  the  earth?  and 
that  in  a  single  grain  of  wheat  he  folded  up,  in  miniature,* 
the  myriads^  of  wheat  plants  which  man  has  gathered  in  all 
succeeding  harvests  ? 

4.  "  Lo !  in  each  seed,  within  its  slender  rind,^ 

Life's  golden  threads  in  endless  circles  wind — 
Maze^  within  maze  the  lucid  webs^  are  roU'd, 
And,  as  they  burst,  the  living  flame  unfold. 
The  pulpy  acorn,  ere  it  swells,  contains 
The  oak's  vast  branches  in  its  milky  veins  ; 
Grain  within  grain  successive  harvests  dwell, 
And  boundless  forests  slumber  in  a  shell." 

5.  As  cell  life  is  the  beginning  of  the  life  of  plants,  even  in 
the  seeds,  so  the  entire  growth  of  plants  is  but  a  continua- 
tion of  the  same  process^ — consisting  of  millions  upon  mil- 
lions of  little  cells  heaped  together — forming  ahke  the  mass- 
ive trunk  of  the  oak,  and  the  finest  down  upon  the  tiny  leaf. 
When  we  consider  the  exceeding  minuteness  of  these  cells  in 
sotae  plants,  and  that  some  stems  shoot  up  three  or  four  inch- 
es in  a  day,  we  can  form  some  idea  of  the  wonderful  rapidity 
of  cell  growth.  It  is  supposed  that  the  century  plant,  a  short 
time  before  blooming,  increases  at  the  rate  of  over  twenty 
thousand  millions  of  cells  in  a  day ! 

6.  Thus,  knowing  how  all  vegetables  grow,  we  can  better 
understand  the  nature  of  such  curious  plants  as  mould,  mil- 
dew, and  yeast,  which,  having  neither  stems  nor  leaves,  con- 
sist wholly  either  of  a  single  cell,  or  of  clusters  of  little  cells 
adhering  together.  Yeast,  which  is  put  into  the  dough  of 
bread  to  make  it  light,  consists  of  little  cell  plants  so  exceed- 
ingly small  that  a  cubic  inch  of  yeast  is  said  to  contain  more 
than  eleven  hundred  millions  of  them.  As  the  yeast  plant 
grows  rapidly  in  the  dough,  spreading  all  through  it,  and 
forming  its  living  cells  in  countless  numbers,  it  gives  ofi"  little 
bubbles  of  gas,  which  puff  up  the  dough,  and  thus  "  leaven 
the  whole  lump." 

7.  Strange  though  it  may  seem,  yet  all  animal  growth  is 
the  growth  of  ceUs  also,  the  same  as  in  vegetables.    The 


180 


WILLSON'S   FOUETH   EEADEE. 


PaetIII 


muscles,  the  bones,  the  nerves,  the  hair,  the  nails,  consist  of 
cells.  The  smallest  muscular  fibre  that  the  microscope  can 
detect  is  made  up  of  a  row  of  little  cells,  much  like  a  string 
of  beads.  In  shape  and  mode  of  growth  the  animal  cells  are 
in  all  respects  Hke  the  vegetable;  but  the  substances  of 
which  they  are  composed  are  different.* 

8.  In  very  young  plants,  and  also  in  the  lower  grades  of 
vegetable  life,,  such  as  the  mushrooms  and  the  mosses,  the 
walls  of  the  cells  are  very  thin ;  and  these  are  what  are  called 
cellular  plants.  These  cells,  when  first  formed,  are  egg- 
shaped,  or  globular,  and  filled  with  a  liquid  substance ;  but 
when  numbers  of  them  are  pressed  together  in  the  growing 
plant  they  assume  various  forms,  as  may  be  seen  by  exam- 
ining thin  slices  of  the  pith  of  different  kinds  of  wood  with  a 
microscope.     (Fig.  3.) 

9.  The  cells  are  usually  soft;  but  sometimes  they  are  so 
filled  up  and  pressed  together  that  they  become  very  hard, 
as  in  thorns,  prickles,  and  the  shells  or  coverings  of  nuts. 
Potatoes,  turnips,  and  other  vegetables  are  made  palatable 
and  digestible  by  breaking  up  their  cells,  containing  starch 
and  sugar,  in  the  process  of  boiling  or  steaming. 

10.  Some  of  the  cells,  at  an  early  stage  of  their  growth, 
lengthen  into  the  form  of  short  tubes,  and  thicken  their  walls. 
These  form  what  is  called,  from  their  shape,  vascular  tissue,^® 
or  woody  fibre.  Owing  to  the  strength  of  this  tissue,  vascu- 
lar plants  grow  to  a  great  height,  with  sufficient  firmness  to 
form  the  ribs  of  oak  that  plow  the  main,  or,  towering  in  their 
native  woods  like  "  the  mast  of  some  tall  admiral,"  they  are 

*  The  cell  walls  of  plants  are  composed  of  what  is  called  cil' -lu-loae ;  but  animal  cells 
are  composed  of  an  animal  element  called  pro' -te-lne. 


Fig.  3. 


At  8,  in  Pig.  3,  is  shown  a  cluster  of  highly-magnified  cells,  of  globular  shape,  as  first 
formed.  At  9  is  a  lengthened  cell,  the  beginning  of  such  as  are  found  in  vascular  tissue 
At  10  and  11  are  globular  cells  assuming  angular  forms  under  the  influence  of  pressure. 


1st  DiT.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OE   BOTANY.  181 

enabled  to  withstand  the  tempest's  shock.  Vascular  tissue 
is  sometimes  in  the  form  of  spiral  fibre,  which  may  be  seen 
surrounding  the  pith  of  some  plants,  where  the  thread  may 
easily  be  uncoUed. 

11.  Through  the  small  tubular  wood-cells  the  sap  is  carried 
from  the  roots  to  the  leaves.  Yet  these  cells,  in  the  young 
and  growing  plant,  have  no  openings,  and  the  sap  can  pass 
from  one  to  another  only  by  making  its  way  through  their 
thin  walls.  And  sp  short  are  the  wood-cells  generally,  that, 
to  rise  a  foot  in  such  a  tree  as  the  basswood,  the  sap  has  to 
pass  through  the  walls  of  about  two  thousand  of  these  cells. 
There  are  no  continuous^ ^  veins,  as  many  suppose,  through 
which  the  sap  of  trees  rises.  Wood-cells  in  the  bark  are  gen- 
erally longer  than  in  the  central  parts ;  they  give  great  tough- 
ness to  the  inner  bark  of  many  plants,  and  they  furnish  the 
invaluable  fibres  of  flax  and  hemp. 

12.  In  addition  to  the  cells  which  have  been  described, 
there  are  larger  cells  called  ducts,  which  are  either  long  sin- 
gle cells  overlapping  one  another,  or  rows  of  cells  placed  end 
to  end.  Some  of  these  are  so  large  that  they  may  be  seen  by 
the  naked  eye  when  cut  across,  but  they  are  usually  much  too 
small  for  this.  There  are  also,  in  various  plants,  canals  or 
cavities  formed  between  or  among  the  cells,  and  filled  with 
the  particular  products  of  the  plant,  such  as  milk,  oil,  turpen- 
tine, etc. 

13.  These  various  cells  constitute  the  substance  or  frame- 
work of  plants,  from  ths  mushroom  of  a  night  to  the  oak  of 
centuries.  The  diversities  of  appearance  which  they  present, 
when  viewed  by  the  aid  of  a  microscope,  enable  us  to  distin- 
guish one  kind  of  vegetable  growth  from  another,  as  the 
fibres  of  flax  or  U7ien  from  cotton,  even  when  twisted  and 
woven  together,  and  thus  to  detect  frauds  in  the  manufacture 

■p.     4  At  12  are  represented  portions 

^'    *  - •■  of  vascular  tissue,  showing  the 

spiral  arrangement  of  the  fibres. 
At  13,  a  common  arrangement 
of  the  wood-cells  through  which 
the  sap  circulates,  placed  end  to 
end,  or  partially  overlapping 
each  other.  At  14  is  shown  the 
appearance  of  fibres  of  flax,  when 
viewed  by  the  microscope ;  and  at 
15,  the  twisted  appearance  of 
fibres  of  cotton. 


182 


WILLSON^S   FOURTH   READEE. 


Paet  III. 


of  cloths,  where  the  cheaper  material  of  cotton  is  intermixed 
with  linen.  (Fig.  4.)  Our  obligations  to  the  woody  fibre  of 
plants  are  infinite,  for  without  it  we  should  have  neither  linen 
nor  cotton  cloths,  neither  sails  nor  cordage  for  our  ships,  nor 
a  door-mat  upon  which  to  clean  our  shoes ;  without  it  the 
books  of  the  present  day  would  have  no  existence,  for  the 
paper  upon  which  they  are  printed  consists  of  wooden  fibre. 
14.  All  plants  have  a  covering  called  the  cuticle;  and  this, 
formed  of  cells  also,  extends  from  the  lowest  root  to  the  top- 
most twig,  spreading  over  every  leaf,  and  enveloping  the 
whole  plant.  Yet  in  one  of  the  great  classes  of  plants,  the 
exogenous^  or  outward-growing,  this  covering  differs  essen- 
tially from  that  of  the  endogenous^  or  inward-growing ;  for, 
while  in  the  former  it  constitutes  the  true  bark,  which  is  sep- 
arable from  the  wood,  in  the  latter  it  is  only  a  hardening  of 
the  outward  portion  of  the  stem.  We  shall  hereafter  see 
that  this  covering  has  offices  to  perform,  especially  in  the 
leaves,  quite  similar  to  the  functions  of  the  human  skin,  which 
we  have  already  described. 


1  Ad-heb'-ent,  united, 

2  6eem,  beginning ;  origin  ;  first  principle. 

3  Om-nis'-cienoe,  universal  knowledge. 

*  "  In  min'-ia-tCee,"  on  a  very  small  scale, 
5  Myk'-i-ads,  immense  multitudes. 

*  Rind,  skin  ;  bark,  or  outer  coat. 
'  Maze,  intricate  winding. 


"  Ltjcid  webs,"   the  webs  of  life,  voelX 
known  to  Him  who  wove  them. 
Pkoc'-ess,  pronounced  prds'-ess.  ■ 
Tis'-suE  (ftsft-.sft7/),  that  which  has  the 
appearance  of  being  tcovcn. 
€oN-TiN'-t'-ous,  separate;  uninterrupt- 
ed. 


LESSOIS'  IV. 
THE  ROOTS  OF  PLANTS. 

1.  In  what  manner  does  the  plant  grow,  and  by  what 
means  is  it  nourished,  are  questions  to  be  answered  at  the 
very  outset^  of  our  inquiries^  into  the  physiology  of  vegeta- 
tion. We  are  therefore  next  brought  to  consider  those  com- 
pound^  organs  of  plants  which  perform,  among  other  func- 
tions,* that  of  nutrition. 

2.  It  is  necessary  to  vegetable  growth  that  certain  sub- 
stances should  be  absorbed,  in  a  liquid  state,  through  the 
roots,  and  that  this  nutritive  liquid,  or  sap,  should  circulate 
through  the  stem  to  the  leaves,  which  latter  are  the  respiratory 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OE   BOTANY.  183 

or  breathing  organs,  performing  functions  similar  to  the  lungs 
of  animals.  From  the  leaves  the  sap  is  returned  to  the  stem, 
after  having  been  acted  upon  by  the  atmosphere,  in  a  condi- 
tion suitable  for  the  formation  of  the  new  growth  of  the  plant. 
The  stem    ^^adpH^  ^'  When  the  proper   conditions 

that  goes  ^^^^^  of  heat,  light,  and  moisture  allow 
the  germination^  of  the  seed,  which 
may  be  considered  as  a  plant  whose 
vital  powers  are  dormant,^  its  out- 
er shell  or  covering  bursts,  and,  in 
whatever  position  the  seed  is  plant- 
The  Koot  oKSBk  ^^'  ^^^  stem  goes  upward,  while  the 

that  goes  downward,  /f/f  f|P^  rootlct  invariably  turns  downward, 
and  spreads  out  its  little  fibres  to  suck  up  nourishment  from 
the  earth. 

4.  In  some  rare  instances  roots  may  become  branches,  and 
branches  act  as  roots.  A  maple-tree  may  be  inverted,"^  the 
branches  being  buried  in  the  ground  and  the  roots  extended 
in  the  air,  without  killing  the  tree.  The  stems  of  some  plants 
send  out  fibres  which  take  root  in  the  earth ;  and  frequently 
twigs  stuck  in  moist  earth  will  take  root  and  become  large 
trees.  I^early  two  tnousand  years  ago  the  Mantuan^  bard 
thus  discoursed  on  this  mode  of  propagation : 

5.  "These  ways  of  planting  Nature  did  ordain 

For  trees,  and  shrubs,  and  all  the  sylvan  train. 
Others  there  are,  by  late  experience  found  : 
Some  cut  the  shoots,  and  plant  in  furrow^ ground: 
Some  coyer  rooted  stalks  in  deeper  moul^ 
Some  cloven  stakes,  and  (wondrous  to  behold !) 
Their  sharpened  ends  in  earth  securely  place, 
And  the  dry  poles  produce  a  living  race. 

6.  "  Some  bow  the  vines ;  and,  buried  in  the  plain, 

Their  tops  in  distant  arches  rise  again. 
Others  no  root  require :  the  lab'rer  cuts 
Young  slips,  and  in  the  soil  securely  puts : 
Even  stumps  of  olives,  bared  of  leaves,  and  dead, 
Eevive,  and  oft  redeem  their  withered  head." 

It  is  probable  that  some  allowance  is  to  be  made  for  the 
poet's  privilege  in  YirgiPs  account  of  the  dry  poles;  but  it  is 
not  uncommon  to  see  posts,  set  out  for  fences,  growing  as  trees. 


184 


WILLSON'fe  FOUETH   EEADER. 


Pakt  III. 


1.  Although  no  solid  substance  can  find  its  way  through 
the  roots  into  the  plant,  yet  as  the  water  which  the  rootlets 
absorb  from  the  earth  always  contains  earthy  matters,  it  is 
through  this  medium  that  the  plant  is  nourished,  when  the 
matter  in  solution^  is  such  as  the  plant  requires  for  its  struc- 
ture. ^^  In  this  way,  also,  the  plant  is  poisoned  when  sub- 
stances injurious  to  it  are  thrown  around  the  roots ;  and  in 
the  same  way  the  wood  of  trees  designed  for  ornamental  pur- 
poses has  been  dyed  by  chemical  substances. 

8.  Although  roots  generally  grow  in  the  ground,  yet  some, 
like  those  of  parasites^^  and  air-plants,  grow  upon  other  vege- 
tables, and  have  no  immediate  connection  with  the  soil.  Nor 
does  it  follow  that  all  subterranean^^  vegetable  organs  are 
roots.  The  root-stalks  of  the  sweet  flag  and  ginger,  also  tu- 
bers Hke  the  common  potato,  artichoke,  and  dahlia,  and  the 
bulbs  of  the  turnip,  lily,  tuhp,  and  onion,  may  very  properly 
be  considered  as  underground  stems,  although,  in  botanical 
language,  they  are  usually  described  as  roots.     (Fig.  6.) 


Fig.  6.  The  Roots  of  Plants. 


Fig.  6. — Botanists  not  only  give  particular  names  to  all  parts  of  plants,  but  also  par- 
ticular terms  to  express  their  principal  varieties  of  form.  Hence,  in  advanced  works  on 
Botany,  these  terras  must  be  defined  and  explained.  Although,  of  the  root,  stem,  and 
leaves,  the  former  is  the  simplest,  and  least  varied  in  its  modifications,  yet  it  exhibits 
quite  a  number  of  varieties  in  form,  the  principal  of  which  will  be  described  here. 

At  1  is  shown  the  sprouting  of  a  grain  or  kernel  of  corn,  sending  upward  a  little  stalk 
which  contains  a  single  seed-leaf,  or  co-tyl-ii'-don,  but  has  wrapped  up  in  it  other  leaves. 
It  has  a  single  rootlet,  or  rad'-i-cle,  which  shoots  downward.  At  2  the  corn  plant  is  seen 
farther  advanced,  each  leaf  coming  out  from  within  the  others  as  the  plant  grows.  A 
cluster  oifilnrous  or  thread-like  roots  has  also  made  its  appearance. 

At  3  is  the  seedling  plant  of  the  maple,  with  its  pair  of  seed-leaves,  or  co-tyl-r'-dons, 
showing  that  it  belongs  to  the  class  of  di-co-tyl-e'-don-ous  plants  (see  note,  page  193).  At 
4  is  a  turnip-shaped  or  na'-pi-form  root ;  6,  spindle-shaped,  like  a  radish  ;  7,  roots  of  the 
dilhlia,  clustered  and  tuberous;  8,  the  potato,  also  tuberous  ;  9,  the  corni,  or  solid  bulb 
of  the  crocus,  which  is  merely  a  short  and  thick  rootstock  ;  10,  the  scaly  bulb  of  the  lily ; 

11,  the  rhi-zo'-raa  or  rootstock  of  the  Solomon's  seal,  properly  an  underground  stem; 

12,  the  strawberry,  sending  out  runners,  which  take  root  and  produce  new  plants. 


1st  DiV.  OP  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OE  BOTANY. 


185 


9.  Roots  are  classified,  in  respect  to  duration,  as  anmial^^^ 
biennial^  and  perennial.  Annual  roots  are  fibrous,^*  and  pro- 
duce, during  their  brief  existence  of  a  single  season,  herbage, 
flowers,  and  seeds.  Biennial  plants  produce  leaves  the  first 
year,  but  their  flowers,  fruit,  and  seeds  appear  during  the  sec- 
ond and  last  year  of  their  existence.  Perennial  plants  live 
through  a  series  of  years,  producing  leaves,  flowers,  and  seeds 
during  the  natural  period  of  their  Hves,  which  is  sometimes 
reckoned  by  centuries. ^^ 


'  0tjt'-8Et,  beginning. 

2  In-qui'-kies,  questions  ;  seeking  for  in- 
formation. 

3  Com'-pound,  not  simple ;  composed  of  sev- 
eral parts,  or  of  dififerent  materials. 

♦  FCn€'-tion)b,  offices  ;  employments. 

6  6ekm-i-na'-tton,  the  act  of  sprouting. 

6  Dob'-mant,  in  a  sleeping  state. 

'  In-veet'-ed,  turned  upside  down. 

8  "•  Man'-tu-an  bard,"  Virgil :  called  the 

Mantuan  bard  because  he  was  born  near 

Mantua,  in  Italy. 


9  "  Matter  in  solution,"  that  which  is 

dissolved  in  the  water. 
10  STKueT'-CKB,  growth  or  formation, 
ii  Par'-a-sItes,  plants  that  live  and  grow 
on  other  plants. 

12  Sub-tee-ra'-ne-an,  being  under  the  sur- 
face. 

13  an'-nl-al.     Bi-en'-ni-al.      Pee-en'-ni- 

AL. 

1*  FT'-BEOTis,  having  small  thread-like  roots. 
15  Cen'-tu-kies,  hundreds  of  years. 


LESSOK  V. 
CHANGES  PRODUCED  BY  CULTIVATION. 

1.  The  changes  which  roots  and  tubers  can  be  made  to  un- 
dergo^  are  numerous  and  highly  beneficial  to  man.  The  po- 
tato, for  example,  is  a  native  of  tropical  America,  and  when 
found  wild  its  tubers  are  small  and  scarcely  fit  to  be  eaten, 
while  it  has  been  rendered  by  cultivation  one  of  the  most  val- 
uable articles  of  food.  The  produce^  of  an  acre  of  wild  pota- 
toes could  be  held  in  a  single  measure,  while  the  same  area,^ 
under  cultivation,  will  sometimes  yield  two  or  three  hundred 
bushels.  Cultivation  has  produced  a  thousand  varieties  of 
this  tuber,  varying  in  shape,  size,  color,  and  quaHty. 

2.  Beets,  parsnips,  and  turnips  are  also  made  to  assume 
many  variations  under  proper  cultivation.  The  bulb  of  the 
latter,  for  instance,  has,  since  the  beginning  of  the  present  cen- 
tury, been  changed  from  globular*  to  spindle-shaped,  in  col- 
ors from  white  and  yellow  to  purple  and  green,  and  in  weight 
from  a  couple  of  ounces  to  twenty  pounds.  So  also  with  the 
carrot,  which  in  a  wild  state  is  a  slender,  tapering  root  of  a 
yellowish-white  color,  but  which,  by  cultivation,  increases  in 


186  WILLSON's' FOURTH   READER.  PAKT  HI. 

size,  and  assumes  a  deep  red  or  orange  color.    In  the  one 

case  the  root  is  not  much  thicker  than  a  common  quiU,  in  the 

other  it  becomes  as  thick  and  long  as  a  man's  arm. 

Chambers. 

1  Un-dee-g5',  pass  through.  1 3  a'-ee-a,  extent  of  surface. 

a  PbSd'-itce,  that  which  is  produced.  |*  Glob'-u-lae,  roundish ;  like  a  globe. 


LESSON^  VI. 

THE  STEMS  OF  PLANTS. 


^^s^  1.  That  part  of  the  plant 

which  grows  upAvard  from  the 
root  becomes  the  stem  and 
branches.  Of  all  parts  of  the 
plant,  it  is,  perhaps,  the  most 
useful  to  man,  as  it  furnishes 
the  principal  materials  for  his 
dwellings,  his  ships,  his  wagons 
and  carriages,  and  food  for  the 
support  of  animal  life.  Its 
principal  use  to  the  plant  is  to 
hold  the  leaves  up  to  the  air 
Cross  section  of  an  Ex-og'-en-ous  stem,  and  light,  and  to  furnish  a  me- 
dium for  the  circulation  of  the  sap. 

2.  It  has  been  stated  that  the  two  great  divisions  of  flow- 
ering plants  are  the  outward-growing,  or  exogenous,  and  the 
inward-growing,  or  endogenous.  The  stems  of  these  two  di- 
visions differ  widely  in  arrangement  and  appearance,  as  may 
be  seen  by  examining  the  two  representations  of  them  on  the 
next  page.  (See  Fig.  8-9.)  The  exogenous  plants  have  an 
outer  bark,  a  wood,  and  pith ;  the  wood  is  arranged  in'  circular 
layers  around  the  centre  by  yearly  additions;  and  there  are 
rays  branching  from  the  central  part  to  the  circumference. 
These  rays  add  great  beauty  to  many  kinds  of  wood,  where 
they  are  known  by  the  name  of  silver  grain.  In  maple  and 
oak  they  are  very  conspicuous.^ 


Fig,  7,  above,  represents  a  cross  section  of  an  ex-os'-en-ous  stem,  one  of  the  cone-bpar- 
Ing  species,  in  the  eighth  year  of  its  growth,  showing  eight  distinct  zones,  or  layers,  sur- 
rounding the  central  pith.     In  this  spccimon  the  markings  are  very  distinct. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OB   BOTANY. 


187 


3.  In  the  endogenotis,  or  inward-growing  stems,  there  are 
no  concentric^  circles  of  wood;  neither  is  there  pith  or  bark; 
but  bundles  of  woody  fibres  are  scattered  throughout  the 
cell  work.  While  an  exogenous  stem,  when  cut  across,  shows 
the  circular  layers,  which  represent  the  number  of  years  of 
its  growth,  as  in  the  example  which  we  have  given  in  Fig.  7, 
the  endogenous  stem  is  merely  an  irregular  mass  of  cells  and 
woody  fibre. 

4.  The  division  of  plants  into  herbs,  shrubs,  and  trees,  is 
based  on  i^eculiarities^  of  the  stem.  The  root  of  an  herb  may 
be  perennial,*  but  its  stem  is  annual,^  and  dies  at  the  end  of 
the  first  year,  as  we  see  in  the  hollyhock.  A  tree  has  peren- 
nial roots  and  stem,  which  are  of  woody  fibre,  with  a  distinct 
trunk  or  body  between  the  roots  and  branches.  A  shrub  is 
a  small  tree  which  sends  out  branches  from  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  and  has  no  distinct  trunk. 

5.  In  the  lower  orders  of  vegetable  life  there  is  a  kind  of 
plants,  most  of  them  very  small,  which  have  neither  branches 
nor  leaves.     As  they  are  "flowerless  plants,"  they  form  a 


Fig.  8. 
Ex-oa'-BN-otrs. 


Fig.  9. 
En-dog'-en-otts. 


Fig.  8  represents  the  ex-og'-enous  stem  of  the  oak  in  the  fourth  year  of  its  growth. 
The  lower  part  is  a  vertical  section,  and  the  upper  part  a  cross  section,  or  horizontal  sec- 
tion. In  the  horizontal  section  four  distinct  layers  are  seen  suiToundiug  the  pith  in  con- 
centric circles.  The  lines  branching  outward  from  the  pith  to  the  bark  are  the  med'-ul- 
ia-rij  rays. 

At  a  is  sho%vn  the  pith ;  &,  the  bark ;  c,  c,  c,  dotted  ducts ;  d,  cf,  d,  layers  of  woody 
ftore  ;  s,  spiral  vessels  of  the  med'-ul-la-ry  sheath. 

Fig.  0  represents  the  eri-dog'-en-ous  stem  of  the  palm,  the  upper  part  being  a  horizon- 
tal section,  and  the  lower  vertical.  As  the  new  growth  takes  place  constantly  from  ivith- 
in,  the  vascular  fibres  /,  /,  /,  /,  are  constantly  pushed  ou'tvard  and  compressed,  and  the 
outer  part  of  the  stem— the  rind  or  covering— becomes  the  hardest,  which  is  the  reverse 
of  what  takes  place  in  the  ex-og'-en-ous,  or  outward -grooving  plants.  In  the  en-dog'-on- 
0U8  stem  there  is  no  distinction  of  pith,  wood,  and  bark,  nor  docs  a  cross  section  show 
any  concentric  arrangement  of  annual  layers. 


188  willson's  FOTJETH  KEADEE.  Paet  III, 

class  by  themselves.*  The  red  snow  of  polar  regions,  the 
green  scum  of  stagnant  water,  the  fungus^  growth  on  decay- 
ed wood,  and  various  kinds  of  mould  and  mildew,  are  vege- 
table productions  of  the  flowerless  plants.  Yeast,  to  which 
we  have  already  alluded,  consists  of  a  little  cell  plant  of  the 
same  family.  Rust  and  smut  in  grain,  and  dry  rot  in  wood, 
are  composed  of  similar  minute  plants. 

6.  The  lowest  grade  of  plants  with  stems  are  liverworts, 
which  grow  in  wet  places.  Next  come  the  mosses  with 
stems  and  distinct  foliage,  and  ferns  which  frequently  grow 
several  feet  in  height,  with  a  peculiar  stem  called  a  stijje. 
Probably  the  highest  grade  of  flowerless  plants  in  this  coun- 
try is  the  scouring  rush,  which  seems  to  be  all  stem,  and  en- 
tirely destitute  of  leaves.  It  grows  in  sandy  places,  and  con- 
tains so  much  silex,  or  sand,  that  it  is  used  for  scouring  and 
polishing  articles  of  furniture.  In  ascending  the  scale  of  vege- 
table development"^  we  come  next  to  grasses,  sedges,  rushes, 
liUes,  flags,  reeds,  and  palms. 

7.  All  endogenous  stems  rapidly  attain  their  full  size,  which 
seldom  exceeds  eighteen  inches  in  diameter,  though  the 
height  sometimes  readies  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  It  is 
in  the  exogenous  division  of  plants  that  the  famed  trees  of 
mammoth  growth  are  found.  Pliny,  an  ancient-  writer,  men- 
tions one,  in  the  hollow  trunk  of  which  Lucan,  the  Roman 
consul,  supped  and  slept  with  twenty  men.  A  chestnut-tree 
on  Mount  Etna  is  said  to  be  sixty-four  feet  in  diameter,  and 
it  is  of  such  renown^  that  it  is  mentioned  in  ancient  maps  of 
Sicily. 

8.  Travelers  in  Africa  have  described  the  gigantic  baobab- 
trees,  one  of  which,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Senegal  River,  is  sup- 
posed to  be  upward  of  two  thousand  years  old.  On  the  oi> 
posite  page  is  a  drawing  of  it.  It  has  a  short  and  massive 
trunk,  thirty  feet  in  diameter.  When  seen  at  a  distance  it 
presents  almost  the  appearance  of  a  forest,  and  it  is  not  till 
the  spectator  has  satisfied  himself  by  a  near  inspection^  that 
he  can  be  convinced  that  the  luxuriant  verdure  above  pro- 

•  They  are  called  "flowerless,"  or  cryp-tng'-a-rnous  plants.  The  latter  name,  which 
means  "hidden  fructification,"  intimates  that  they  may  have  something  answering  to 
flowers  and  seeds,  although  not  the  same  as  seeds ;  and  this  is  now  known  to  be  the  case 
with  most  of  them. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OK  BOTANY.  189 

ceeds  from  a  soli- 
tary stem.  This 
enormous  tree, 
clothed  with  its 
brilliant  verdm*e 
and  snowy  blos- 
soms, must  be  a 
magnificent  spec- 
tacle ;  and  we  can 
notwonderatthe 
feelings      which 

prompt    the    Un-  The  Baobab-tree. 

tutored^^  negro  to  worship  under  its  shade,  and  hail  the  open- 
ing of  its  flowers  with  pious  veneration.^i 

9.  But  even  the  great  baobab  must  yield  in  dimensions  to 
the  mammoth  red-wood  trees  of  California.  One  of  these 
trees  was  three  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  thirty  in  diam- 
eter, and  its  bark  was  fifteen  inches  in  thickness.  "When  it 
was  felled,i2  ^]^e  trunk  was  perfectly  sound  to  the  centre. 
The  largest  of  the  group,  known  as  the  "  Father  of  the  For- 
est," has  long  been  prostrated;  but  it  is  great  even  in  its 
ruins.  It  is  estimated  that  it  was  four  hundred  and  twenty 
feet  in  height,  or  only  a  few  feet  lower  than  the  highest  of 
the  Egyptian  pyramids. 

10.  The  stems  of  some  trees  send  down  branches  which 
take  root  in  the  earth  and  form  new  trunks.  The  most  re- 
markable instance  of  a  plurality  of  trunks  is  seen  in  the  ban- 
yan-tree of  India.  It  has  at  first  but  one  stem ;  but  from  the 
branches  leafless  shoots  are  sent  down,  which,  taking  root, 
become  secondary  stems.  This  process  is  repeated  till  one 
tree  makes  a  forest.  There  is  said  to  be  one  in  Hindostan 
with  three  hundred  and  fifty  larger  trunks  and  three  thousand 
smaller  ones,  covering  seven  acres,  and  furnishing  shelter  for 
seven  thousand  men. 

11.  These  magnificent  natural  temples  are  esteemed^^  sa- 
cred by  the  Hindoos,  and  are  dedicated^'^  to  religious  rites. ^* 
Milton  has  beautifully  described  this  tree : 

"Branching  so  broad  and  long,  that  in  the  ground 
The  bended  twigs  take  root ;  and  daughters  grow 


190  willson's  foukth  eeadee.  pakt  m. 

About  the  mother  tree,  a  pillar'd  shade, 

High  over-arched,  and  echoing  walks  between." 

12.  Another  kind  of  stem,  remarkable  in  many  respects,  is 
that  of  the  cactus,  an  order  of  plants  found  almost  exclusive- 
ly in  America,  and  abundant  in  Mexico,  Oregon,  and  Califor- 
nia. They  are  usually  leafless  plants,  presenting  their  juicy 
stems  under  a  great  variety  of  forms,  from  that  of  an  egg  to 
a  lofty  fluted  column,  and,  in  the  case  of  the  giant  cactus  of 
California,  exhibiting  a  leafless  branching  trunk  fifty  or  six- 
ty feet  in  height.  Growing  mostly  in  hot,  dry,  and  rocky 
places,  where  they  are  exposed  for  many  months  in  the  year 
to  the  fiercest  beams  of  a  tropical  sun,  they  are  remarkably 
adapted,  by  a  wise  provision  of  Nature,  to  the  situations  in 
which  they  are  destined  to  live. 

Fig.  10. 


13.  During  the  wet  season  of  the  year  they  grow  rapidly, 
and  so  fill  themselves  with  nourishment  that  they  may  be  lit- 
erally said  to  gorgc^^  themselves  with  food.  Then,  when  the 
rains  cease,  and  the  air  becomes  dry,  and  the  spirit  of  the 
desert  resumes  his  withering  dominion  over  their  climate, 

Fig.  10,  Cactus  Plantn.  At  1  is  noon  tho  Cnctiis  opiinHn,  or  prickly-poar  cactup,  its 
stem  and  liriiftchca  forniint?  a  succession  of  thick  and  flattened  joints ;  at  5  in  one  Pimi- 
lar,  but  with  shorter  nnd  flatter  joints  ;  2  and  4  are  plants  belonging  to  the  Cerens  genn-< 
of  cactuses,  the  latter  being  the  gjaut  cactus  of  California,  which  rises  to  the  height  ol  50 
or  60  feet ;  3  is  the  melon  cactus ;  and  6  is  tho  Cereus  speciosissimus  in  full  bloom. 


1st 


DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OK   BOTANY. 


191 


and  all  the  gay  companions  of  the  cactus  droop  and  die,  these 
juicy  plants,  closing  their  pores  to  prevent  evaporation, ^^ 
feed  on  their  garnered^^  stores,  and  preserve  the  most  robust 
health,  not  for  days  merely,  but  for  months.  In  their  power 
of  enduring  long-continued  drouth,!^  ^hey  may  be  considered 
to  fill  that  place  in  the  vegetable  world  which  is  occupied  in 
the  animal  kingdom  by  the  camel  of  the  desert. 


1  €oN-8ri€'-u-otTS,  plain ;  easily  seen. 

2  €on-ckn'-tei€,  having  a  common  centre. 

3  PE-€tjL-ilE'-i-TiE»,  particular  features. 

*  Pek-en'-ni-al,  lasting  many  years. 
6  An'-nu-al,  lasting  but  one  year.  ^ 

6  Fun'-otjs  (fung'-gus),  like  a  musnroom. 
'  De-vel'-op-ment,     progress     to     higher 

forms ;  an  unfolding. 
8  Re-nown',    repute;    notoriety;    so    well 

known. 

•  In-spec'-tion,  view;  examination. 


10  Un.tO'-toeei>,  not  instructed ;  untaught. 

11  V£n-ek-a'-tion,  reverence. 

12  Felled,  cut  down. 

13  Eb-teem'ei>,  regarded  ;  held. 

i4r  Di:d'-i-ca-ted,  solemnly  set  apart. 

15  Rites,  religious  ceremonies. 

16  GoKGB,  to  till  to  overflowing  ;  to  glut. 
1''  E-vap-o-ka'-tion,  passing  off  in  vapov 

a  drying  up. 

18  Gak'-neked,  gathered  ;  laid  up  in  stor^ 

19  Dkouth,  dryness ;  want  of  rain. 


LESSON  VII. 


THE  BANYAN-TREE. 
1 .  'Twas  a  fair  scene  wherein  they  stood, 
A  green  and  sunny  glade^  amid  the  wood, 
And  in  the  midst  an  aged  banyan  grew. 
It  was  a  goodly  sight  to  see 
That  venerable  tree; 
For  o'er  the  lawn,^  irregularly  spread, 
Fifty  straight  columns^  propped  its  lofty  head. 


192  WILLSOn's  fourth  E]S&J)EK.  Part  III. 

And  many  a  long  depending*  shoot 
Seeking  to  strike  its  root, 
Straight,  like  a  plummet,  grew  toward  the  ground. 
2.       Some  on  the  lower  boughs,  which  crossed  their  way, 
Fixing  their  bearded  fibres,^  round  and  round. 
With  many  a  ring  and  wild  contortion^  wound ; 
Some  to  the  passing  w4nds,  at  times,  with  sway 
Of  gentle  motion  swung ; 
Others  of  younger  growth,  unmoved,  were  hung, 
Like  stone-drops  from  the  cavern's  fretted''  height.^ 
Beneath  was  smooth  and  fair  to  sight, 
Nor  weeds  nor  briers  deform'd  the  natural  floor ; 
And  through  the  leafy  cope^  which  bowered  it  o'er 

Came  gleams  of  checker'd  light. 
So  like  a  temple  did  it  seem,  that  there 
A  pious  heart's  first  impulse  would  be  prayer. 

SOUTHEY. 
Glade,  an  opening  in  a  wood.  |5  FT'-bekp,  thread-like  roots  or  tendrils. 


8  Lawn,  a  space  of  ground  covered  with 

grass. 
3  €6l'-iimi*6  (kW-ums),  stems. 
*  De-pknd'-ing,  hanging  from. 


6  €on-tok'-tion,  a  twisting. 

''  Fbet'-ted,  interwoven  like  net-work. 

8  IIeTght,  top ;  ceiling  overhead 

9  €opE,  covering  ;  arch-work. 


LESSOl^  VIII. 
THE  LEAVES  OF  PLANTS. 


1.  It  has  been  seen,  in  the  article  on  Human  Physiology, 
that  in  the  cuticle  or  skin  of  man  there  are  little  opemngs  or 
pores,  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  breathing-holes  of  the 
skin,  but  that  the  lungs  are,  nevertheless,  the  principal  organ 
by  which  the  blood  is  purified.  Leaves  may  be  considered 
the  lungs  of  plants  ;  for  in  the  cuticle  or  covering  of  all  green 
leaves  there  are  minute  apertures,^  like  the  openings  of  the 
perspiration  tubes  in  the  human  skin ;  and  it  is  through  these 
that  the  sap  is  brought  in  contact  with  the  air  for  purposes 
of  respiration^  and  exhalation. ^ 

2.  So  minute*  are  these  openings,  visible  only  by  the  aid 
of  the  microscope,  that  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  of 
them  occur^  in  a  square  inch  of  the  surface  of  some  leaves. 
They  are  usually  most  numerous  on  the  under  side  of  a  leaf, 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OR   BOTANY. 


193 


except  where  both  sides  are  equally  exposed  to  the  influence 
of  air  and  light.  The  number  of  these  breathing  mouths  in  a 
single  tree  of  some  kinds  is  almost  beyond  calculation ;  for  it 
has  been  estimated  that  the  leaves  of  a  single  large  elm-tree 
have  a  leaf  surface  of  not  less  than  five  acres!     (Fig.  11.) 

3.  We  have  seen  that  the  first  and  most  important  divis- 
ion of  leaves  is  into  net-veined  and  paraUel-veined,  the  former 
belonging  to  exogenous  plants,  and  springing  from  two-lobed 
seeds,  as  the  acorn  and  the  bean ;  and  the  latter  belonging  to 
endogenous  plants,  and  springing  from  single  seeds,  as  the 
palms  and  the  grasses.*  Leaves  are  also  classified  as  simple 
and  compound.  Their  principal  varieties  may  be  learned  from 
the  accompanying  illustrations. 

4.  The  surface  of  the  leaf  also  afibrds  a  means  of  classifica- 
tion^ into  smooth,  downy,  hairy,  and  rough  leaves.  Accord- 
ing to  their  duration,  leaves  are  csiMed  fu(/acious'^  when  they 
fall  off  during  the  summer,  deciduous^  when  they  fall  in  au- 
tumn, and  persiste7it^  when  they  remain  during  the  winter, 
and  gradually  give  place  to  new  leaves  in  the  spring. 

5.  In  cold  regions  leaves  are  small  and  highly  polished,  as 
if  to  reflect  what  little  heat  and  light  may  fall  upon  them. 
Plants  growing  on  mountains  and  dry  places  have  gutters  to 

*  The  seeds  which  have  two  lobes  are  called  by  botanists  di-co-tyl-e'-don-ous,  because, 
when  they  germinate,  they  produce  two  co-tyl-G'-dons,  or  seed-leaves.  The  single  seeds 
are  called  mon-o-co-tyl-G'-don-ous,  because  they  produce  but  a  single  co-tyl-G'-don,  or 
seed-leaf. 

Tig.  11. 


Fig.  11  IS  a  honzonial  seuiiou  of  a  leaf  highly  magnified.  Ac  v,  v.  v  are  shown  the 
small  veins  in  the  leaf,  and  s,  s,  s  indicate  the  little  pores  or  breathing-holes,  which,  in 
botanical  language,  are  called  stomata  or  stomates.  Destroy  the  leaves  of  a  tree  in  mid- 
summer, and,  as  the  tree  will  thea  be  unable  to  breathe,  it  will  wither,  and  in  most  cases 
will  soon  die. 

I 


194 


WILLSON's   FOrETH   EEADEE. 


Part  III. 


convey  the  moisture  that  may  fall  upon  them  to  their  roots. 
In  tropical  comitries  leaves  grow  large  and  broad,  as  the  tal- 
lipot  palm  of  Ceylonj  whose  single  leaf  often  affords  cover- 
ing for  a  whole  family. 

Fig.  12.  6.  Sometimes  leaves  present  very  singu- 

lar forms,  as  those  of  several  species  of 
pitcher-plants,  some  of  which  have  connect- 
ed with  them  complete  vases,  with  a  nicely 
fitting  lid  or  cover.     Many  of  these  plants 
are  found  in  Southern  Asia.     The  cup  of 
the  Chinese  pitcher-plant  holds   about   a 
tumblerful    of  sap,  which   is  poured   out 
from  its  inner  side.     This  plant  is  quite  common 
in  Ceylon,  where  it  is  called  monkey-cup,  be- 
cause the  monkeys  sometimes  open  the  lid  and 
drink  the  water.     (Fig.  12.) 
.   Y.  In  India  there  is  also  a  climbing  stem  of  a 
species  of  the  pitcher-plant,  one  hundred  feet 
long,  and  destitute  of  leaves  till  near  the  extrem- 
ity, so  that  it  seems  impossible  that  it  should  re- 
ceive its  nourishment  from  the  ground  by  absorption.^o     This 

Fig.  12.— At  1  is  a  species  of  Dischidici,  in  which  the  pitclier  is  at  the  end  of  the  etem, 
which  grows  through  the  leaf.  At  2  is  the  Nepenthes  distillatoria,  the  true  pitcher-plant 
of  India.  The  pitcher  is  at  the  end  of  an  extension  of  the  midrib  of  the  leaf.  At  3  is  the 
1^  Sarracenia  purinirea^  the  American  side-saddle  flower,  in  which  a  leaf,  collapsing  and 
uniting  at  its  edges,  forms  the  pitcher.  At  4  is  also  a  species  of  the  Nepenthes^  often  call- 
ed the  Chinese  pitcher-plant.     The  lid  is  generally  shut  down. 


mn-Wk^'k 


10 


I.  SiMPLB  Leaves At  1  is  what  is  called  a  linear  leaf.     It  is  also  parallel-veined^  like 

Nos.  21,  23,  and  24,  showing  that  it  belongs  to  the  plants  which  have  but  one  co-tyl-u'- 
don,  or  seed-leaf.  At  2  is  a  lan'-ce-o-late  leaf;  3,  el-lip'-tic-al  leaf:  4,  o'-vate ;  6,  ob- 
lan'-ce-o-late ;  6,  ob-O'-vate;  7,  cu'-ne-atc,  or  wedge-shaped ;  8,  eag'-it-tiite;  9,  au-ric'- 
u-late,  or  eared,  and  sag'-it-tute  when  the  ears  are  pointed  and  turned  downward ;  10, 
has'-tate,  or  spear-shaped. 


'^^^ 


At  U  is  a  leaf  that  is  both  o'-viite  and  a-c.'.te';  12  is  cord'-ato,  or  heart-shaped ;  \^, 
ren'-i-form,  or  kidney-shaped  ;  14,  pelt'-atc,  or  shield-shaped,  and  also  or-bic'-fi-lar  ;  15, 
lobed,  or  pinnately-Iobed ;  10,  pinnately-cZe/^;  17,  pinnately-2:;ar<cd ;  18,  pinnately-di- 


(    I A  / 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OK   BOTANY. 


195 


Fig.  13. 


Fig.  14. 


plant  has  a  pitcher  or  cup,  but  without  any  lid,  formed  of  a 
leaf  with  its  edges  rolled  toward  each  other  till  they  meet 
and  adhere,^  1  while  the  upper  part,  from  which  it  is  suspend- 
ed, is  open  to  receive  the  rain  or  dew. 

8.  This  pitcher  always  contains 
a  fluid,  composed  of  the  sap  of  the 
plant  and  water,  in  which  a  number 
of  black  ants  and  flies  are  generally 
seen.  It  is  supposed  that  by  their 
decomposition^^  ^he  plant  is  nourish- 
ed. A  still  more  wonderful  appear- 
ance is  presented  by  a  tuft  of  fibres, 

hanging  from  the  branch,  and  dipping  into  the  pitcher,  ap- 
parently for  a  new  supply  of  aliment.^^     (Fig.  13.) 

9.  A  very  singular  plant  grows  in 
North  and  South  Carolina,  on  the 
Cape  Fear  and  Santee  rivers,  which 
is  especially  adapted  to  catching 
flies,  and  hence  is  called  a  fly-trap. 
The  trap  is  open  when  the  sun 
shines,  ready,  as  soon  as  a  fly  touches 
any  of  the  long  hairs  within  its 
leaves,  to  close  suddenly,  and  hold 
it  fast  until  its  struggles  are  over, 
when  it  slowly  opens  for  another 
victim.  The  locality  of  this  vegeta- 
ble wonder,  a  drawing  of  which  is 
here  given,  is  confined  to  the  region 
of  the  rivers  named  above,  nor  is  it 

found  in  any  other  part  of  the  world.     (Fig.  14.) 

Fig.  13  is  the  Dischidia  rafflesiamx  of  Asia,  in  which  the  pitcher  is  a  leaf  united  at  its 
edges.     This  pitcher  has  no  lid. 

Fig.  14  is  the  Venus  fly-trap,  Dionceci  muscipnla,  of  Carolina.  At  a  and  6  are  flies, 
caught  by  the  sudden  closing  of  this  singular  leaf-trap. 


n.  CoMPOtTND  Lkaves. — At  19  are  pinnate  leaves,  or  those  in  which  the  leaflets  are  ar- 
ranged on  the  sides  of  a  main  leaf-stalk.     I'al'-mate  or  dig'-it-ate  leaves  are  those  in 


196  willson's  fourth  eeadee.  Part  hi. 

10.  At  night  many  leaves  assume  a  drooping  position, 
owing  to  the  withdrawal  of  the  stimulus^*  of  hght.  This 
folding  of  the  leaves  is  commonly  called  the  sleep  of  plants. 
It  is  especially  noticed  in  those  of  clover,  and  in  peas  and 
other  pod-bearing  plants.  Even  the  foHage  of  trees  with 
compound  leaves  or  leaflets,  as  the  locust,  manifests^^  this 
folding  of  the  leaves  in  sleep.  If  kept  in  the  dark  all  day,  the 
sleeping  leaves  are  not  aroused,  but  they  are  sensitive  to  arti- 
ficial light  at  night.  Plants  of  difierent  species  assume  differ- 
ent positions  at  night,  but  the  position  is  constant  for  those 
of  the  same  species. 

'11.  All  deciduous^  leaves  change  their  color  in  autumn. 
The  green  color  becomes  of  a  golden  or  crimson  tint,  chang- 
ing to  a  russet,^^  and  often  presenting  the  most  beautiful  and 
gorgeous  appearance.  American  forests,  especially  those 
in  which  the  maple  is  abundant,  are  said  to  excel,  in  this  re- 
spect, those  of  the  Old  World.  An  English  lady-tourist  is 
said  to  have  been  so  delighted  with  the  dazzling  splendor  of 
American  forest  leaves  in  autumn  that  she  procured  a  supply 
to  ornament  a  ball-dress,  to 

"  Deck  the  gay  halls 
Of  her  far  distant  home." 

12.  As  swans  are  said  to  sing  most  sweetly  just  before 
they  die ;  as  some  species  of  fish  exhibit  the  richest  colors  as 
they  expire ;  as^  soap-bubbles  assume  the  brightest  rainbow- 

which  the  leaflets  are  borne  on  the  very  tip  of  the  leaf-stalk,  as  at  20.  At  21  is  a  per- 
fo'-li-ate  leaf ;  and  at  22  one  that  is  connate-perfoh'ate.  Eq'-ui-tant  leaves,  as  at  23,  are 
those  which  partly  inclose  or  straddle  over  each  other.  At  24  the  leaves  are  whirled,  or 
arranged  around  the  stem  on  the  same  level ;  and  at  25  they  are  opposite  each  other. 

Particular  terms  are  also  used  to  designate  the  forms  of  the  ii'-pex,  or  end  of  the  leaf, 
as  at  a  it  is  acuminate;  5,  acute;  c,  obtuse;  d,  trnncnte;  e,  emnrginate^  or  notched; 
when  deeply  notched,  it  is  ob-cord'-ate  ;  (7,  sharp-pointed,  ia  cusp'-i-dute  ;  h,  short-point- 
ed, is  mfi'-cro-nate. 


Z7  28 


At  26  is  a  three-lobcd  leaf;  27,  three-cleft;  28,  three-parted;  29,  three-divided,  or  pal- 
mately-divided. 

The  various  forms  of  the  mnrpins  of  leaves  are  also  indicated  by  particular  terms. 
When  their  general  outline  is  completely  filled  out,  they  are  said  to  be  entire ;  SO  is  ser'- 
rate.,  or  saw-toothed ;  31,  simply  dent' -ale,  or  toothed  ;  32,  cre'-nate,  or  scalloped  ;  83,  re- 
jjand',  or  wavy ;  34,  sin'-u-ate,  having  deeper  curves  than  the  repand ;  35,  in-cl8'edj 
M'hich  means  cut,  or  jag'-ged. 


1st  Div.  OF  ..  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OE   BOTANY.  197 

tints  the  instant  before  they  vanish  in  thin  air,  so  leaves  take 
on  their  most  beautiful  dyes^"^  in  the  cool  autumn  days,  "  the 
saddest  of  the  year." 

"  Has  it  come'  ?  the  time  to  fade'  ? 
And  with  a  murmured  sigh, 
The  maple,  in  his  scarlet  robe, 
Was  first  to  make  reply." 

13.  This  change  is  not  necessarily  effected  by  cold,  for  it 
often  appears  before  the  earliest  frost,  and  is  premonitory^^ 
of  the  fall  of  the  leaf  One  by  one  they  fall,  till,  as  Coleridge 
has  so  prettily  sung,  there  is  seen  but 

"The  one  red  leaf,  the  last  of  its  clan. 
That  dances  as  often  as  dance  it  can ; 
Hanging  so  light,  and  hanging  so  high. 
On  the  topmost  bough  that  looks  up  at  the  sky." 

14.  But,  according  to  Byron,  in  his  description  of  an  En- 
glish autumn, 

"What  is  lost  in  green  is  gained  in  yellow;" 

and  Southey  could  see  a  pleasant  sign  of  coming  Christmas  in 

"These  fading  leaves, 
That  with  their  rich  variety  of  hues 
Make  yonder  forest  in  the  slanting  sun 
So  beautiful." 

15.  "  September  strews  the  woodland  o'er 

With  many  a  brilliant  color ; 
The  world  is  brighter  than  before — 

Why  should  our  hearts  be  duller^  ? 
Sorrow  and  the^arlet  leaf  ! 

Sad  thoughtsHhd  sunny  weather' ! 
Ah  me^ !  this  glory  and  this  grief 

Agree  not  well  together." 

»  Ap'-EB-TtJEES,  openings  ;  holes. 

2  Res-vi-ra'-tion,   the    act    of  breathing ; 
taking  in  air. 

3  Ex-ha-la'-tion,  the  act  of  sending  forth 
fluids  in  the  form  of  vapor. 

*  Mi-nCte',  very  small. 

5  0€-<TcrE',  exist ;  are  found. 

6  Clas-si-fi-ca'-tion,  arranging  in  classes. 
'  Fu-ga'-ciou8,  flying  away. 

8  De-cTt)'-C-ous,  falling  in  autumn. 

9  Peb-sist'-k-nt,  continuing  without  wither- 
ing. 


1 10  Ab-soep'-tion,  the  act  of  drinking  in^  oi 

sucking  up  nourishment. 
11  Ab-heee',  stick  together. 
•2  DE-€OM-po-8i"-Tio>f,  decay. 
13  Ai/-r-MENT,  food  ;  nutriment. 
1*  Stim'-u-lus,  something  that  rouses  to  ac- 

tion. 

15  Man'-i-fe8T8,  shows  plainly. 

16  Eus'-set,  reddish-brown., 
1''  Dyes,  colors;  hues. 

18  TRE-MOis'-i-To-Ky,  giving  previous  wan? 
ing  or  notice. 


198  WILLSON's  FOUETH  EEADEE.  Part  III. 


LESSON  IX. 
THE  ANGEL  OF  THE  LEAVES :  AN  ALLEGORY. 

[An  allegory  is  a  species  of  fable,  in  which  one  thing  is  described  by  something  ebe 
that  resembles  it.  We  have  a  fine  example  of  an  allegory  in  the  eightieth  Psalm,  in 
which  God's  chosen  people  are  represented  by  a  vineyard.  In  the  following  allegory  the 
desponding,  sorrowing,  and  afflicted  soul,  mourning  its  desolation,  but  afterward  cheered 
by  the  gracious  promises  of  our  heavenly  Father,  is  described  by  the  fable  of  the  tree  in 
autumn,  stripped  of  its  leaves,  chilled  by  the  cold,  and  pelted  by  the  storm,  but  cheered 
by  the  angel  of  the  leaves  with  the  promise  of  a  new  robe  when  spring  shall  return  again.] 


The  Tree  etrippud  ut  its  leaves  in  Autumn. 

1.  "Alas!  alas!"  said  the  sorrowful  tree,  "my  beautiful 
robe  is  gone !  It  has  been  torn  from  me.  Its  faded  pieces 
whirl  upon  the  wind ;  they  rusA  beneath  the  squirrel's  foot 
as  he  searches  for  his  nut.  They  float  uj^on  the  passing 
stream  and  the  quivering  lake.  Woe  is  me!  for  my  fair, 
green  vesture^  is  gone.  It'  was  the  gift  of  the  angel  of  the 
leaves !  I  have  lost  it,  and  my  glory  has  vanished ;  my 
beauty  has  disappeared.  My  summer  hours  have  passed 
away.  My  bright  and  comely^  garment,  alas !  it  is  rent  in  a 
thousand  parts. 

2.  "Who  will  weave  me  such  another?  Piece  by  piece 
it  has  been  stripped  from  me.  Scarcely  did  I  sigh  for  the 
loss  of  one  ere  another  wandered  off  on  the  air.  The  sound 
of  music  cheers"  me  no  more.    The  birds  that  sang  in  my 


1st  Div.  OP  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OB  BOTANY.  199 

bosom  were  dismayed  at  my  desolation.     They  have  flown 
away  with  their  songs. 

3.  "I  stood  in  my  pride.  The  sun  brightened  my  robe 
Avith  his  smile.  The  zephyrs^  breathed  softly  through  its 
glossy  folds;  the  clouds  strewed  pearls  among  them.  My 
shadow  was  wide  upon  the  earth.  My  arms  spread  far  on 
the  gentle  air;  my  head  was  lifted  high;  my  forehead  was 
fair  to  the  heavens.  But  now  how  changed!  Sadness  is 
upon  me ;  my  head  is  shorn,  my  arms  are  stripped ;  I  can  not 
now  throw  a  shadow  on  the  ground.  Beauty  has  departed; 
gladness  is  gone  out  of  my  bosom ;  the  blood  has  retired  from 
my  heart — ^it  has  sunk  into  the  earth. 

4.  "  I  am  thirsty,  I  am  cold.  My  naked  limbs  shiver  in 
the  chiUy  air.  The  keen  blast  comes  pitiless  among  them. 
The  winter  is  coming ;  I  am  destitute.  Sorrow  is  my  por- 
tion. Mourning  must  wear  me  away.  How  shall  I  account 
to  the  angel  who  clothed  me  for  the  loss  of  his  beautiful  gift  ?" 

5.  The  angel  had  been  listening.  In  soothing  accents  he 
answered  the  lamentation.  "My  beloved  tree,"  said  he,  " be 
comforted.  I  am  with  thee  still,  though  every  leaf  has  for- 
saken thee.  The  voice  of  gladness  is  hushed  among  thy 
boughs,  but  let  my  whisper  console  thee.  Thy  sorrow  is  but 
for  a  season.  Trust  in  me ;  keep  my  promise  in  thy  heart. 
Be  patient  and  full  of  hope.  Let  the  words  I  leave  with  thee 
abide'^  and  cheer  thee  through  the  coming  winter.  Then  I 
will  return  and  clothe  thee  anew. 

6.  "The  storm  will  drive  over  thee;  the  snow  will  sift 
through  thy  naked  limbs.  But  these  will  be  light  and  pass- 
ing afflictions.  The  ice  will  weigh  heavily  on  thy  helpless 
arms,  but  it  shall  soon  dissolve  into  tears.  It  shall  pass  into 
the  ground,  and  be  drunken  by  thy  roots.  Then  it  will  creep 
up  in  secret  beneath  thy  bark.  It  will  spread  into  the  branch- 
es it  has  oppressed,  and  help  me  to  adorn  them ;  for  I  shall 
be  here  to  use  it. 

7.  "  Thy  blood  has  now  only  retired  for  safety.  The  frost 
would  chill  and  destroy  it.  It  has  gone  into  thy  mother's 
bosom  for  her  to  keep  it  warm.  Earth  will  not  rob  her  off- 
spring. She  is  a  careful  parent.  She  knows  the  wants  of  all 
her  children,  and  forgets  not  to  provide  for  the  least  of  them. 


200  WILLSOn's  fourth  EEADEK.  Part  III. 

8.  "  The  sap,  that  has  for  a  while  gone  down,  will  make 
thy  roots  strike  deeper  and  spread  wider.  It  will  then  re- 
turn to  nourish  thy  heart.  It  will  be  renewed  and  strength- 
ened. Then, -if  thou  shalt  have  remembered  and  trusted  in 
my  promise,  I  will  fulfill  it.  Buds  shall  shoot  forth  on  every 
side  of  thy  boughs.  I  will  unfold  for  thee  another  robe.  I 
will  paint  it  and  fit  it  in  every  part.  It  shall  be  a  comely 
raiment.  Thou  shalt  forget  thy  present  sorrow.  Sadness 
shall  be  swallowed  up  in  joy.  Now,  my  beloved  tree,  fare 
thee  well  for  a  season." 

9.  The  angel  was  gone.  The  muttering  winter  drew  near. 
The  wild  blast  whistled  for  the  storm.  The  storm  came  and 
howled  around  the  tree.  But  the  word  of  the  angel  was  hid- 
den in  her  heart ;  it  soothed  her  amid  the  threatenings  of 
the  tempest.  The  ice-cakes  rattled  upon  her  limbs;  they 
loaded  and  weighed  them  down. 

10.  "My  slender  branches,"  said  she,  "let  not  this  burden 
overcome  you.  Break  not  beneath  this  heavy  affliction; 
break  not,  but  bend,  till  you  can  spring  back  to  your  places. 
Let  not  a  twig  of  you  be  lost.  Hope  must  prop  you  for  a 
while,  and  the  angel  will  reward  your  patience.  You  will 
move  upon  a  softer  air.  Grace  shall  again  be  in  your  motion, 
and  beauty  hanging  around  you." 

11.  The  scowling  face  of  winter  began  to  lose  its  features. 
The  raging  storm  grew  faint,  and  breathed  its  last.  The 
restless  clouds  fretted  themselves  to  atoms;  they  scattered 
upon  the  sky  and  were  brushed  away.  The  sun  threw  down 
a  bundle  of  golden  arrows.  They  fell  upon  the  tree ;  the  ice- 
cakes  glittered  as  they  came.  Every  one  was  shattered  by  a 
shaft.    They  were  melted  and  gone. 

12.  The  reign  of  spring  had  come.  Her  blessed  ministers 
were  abroad  in  the  earth;  they  hovered  in  the  air;  they 
blended  their  beautiful  tints,  and  cast  a  new-created  glory  on 
the  face  of  the  heavens. 

13.  The  tree  was  rewarded  for  her  trust.  The  angel  was 
true  to  the  object  of  his  love.  He  returned ;  he  bestowed  on 
her  another  robe.  It  was  bright,  glossy,  and  unsullied.^  The 
dust  of  summer  had  never  lit  upon  it ;  the  scorching  heat  had 
not  faded  it ;  the  moth  had  not  profaned®  it. 


1st  DiV.  OF.  .VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OR   BOTANY.  201 


The  Tree  in  Summer. 


14.  The  tree  stood  again  in  loveliness ;  she  was  dressed  in 
more  than  her  former  beauty ;  she  was  very  fair;  joy  smiled 
aroimd  her  on  every  side.  The  birds  flew  back  to  her  bosom. 
They  sang  on  every  branch  a  hymn  to  the  angel  of  the  leaves. 

Miss  H.  F.  Gould. 


15.  Now  each  tree,  by  summer  crown'd,'^ 

Sheds  its  own  rich  twilight  round. 
Glancing  there,  from  sun  to  shade, 

Bright  wings  play ; 
There  the  dew  its  couch  hath  made — 

Come  away ! 
Where  the  boughs,  with  dewy  gloom, 
Parken  each  thick  bed  of  bloom — 

Come  away ! 
-  Where  the  lily's  tender  gleam 
Quivers  on  the  glancing  stream — 
Where  the  fairy  cup-moss  lies. 
With  the  wild-wood  strawberries, 

Come  away— away !  Hemjlvs. 


1  Vest'-Cbk,  garment ;  robe. 

2  €omb'-ly  {kum'-ly),,  suitable ;  beautiful. 

3  Zeph'-te   (zef'-er)^  the  west  wind;   any 
soft,  mild  breeze. 

12 


*  A-bTde',  remain  with  thee. 

5  Un-sul'-lied,  not  sullied  ;  not  sainted. 

6  Pro-fan'ed,  polluted ;  defiled. 
'  €bow»'d,  adorned  with  leaves. 


202 


willson's  fourth  reader. 


Part  IH. 


LESSON  X. 


POETICAL  IMAGERY  DERIVED  FROM  THE  VEGETABLE 
WORLD. 

1.  "  Then  deep  in  the  greenwood  rode  he, 

And  asked  of  every  tree ; 
Oh,  if  ye  have  ever  a  singing  leaf, 
I  pray  you  to  give  it  me. 

2.  "But  the  trees  all  kept  their  counsel ;^ 

They  said  neither  yea  nor  nay ; 
Only  there  sighed  from  the  pine-tops 
A  music  of  seas  far  away. 

S.  "  Only  the  aspen*  pattered 

With  a  sound  like  growing  rain. 
That  fell  ever  fast  and  faster, 
Then  faltered  to  silence  again." 
J.  Russell  Lowell.     Ballad  of  the  Singing  Leaves, 

4.  There  are  no  objects  in  nature  more  familiar  to  us  than 
the  leaves  of  trees  ;  there  are  none  upon  which  most  persons 
look  with  greater  interest  and  delight,  and  none  around 
which  cluster  a  greater  variety  of  pleasing  associations.^  In 
the  different  stages  of  their  growth  and  decay  they  are  often 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OE   BOTANY.  203 

referred  to  as  emblems'^  of  the  life  of  man ;  their  freshness  in 
spring  aptly  denoting  the  season  of  youth  and  hope,  and  their 
autumn^  hues  admonishing  of  the  approaching  winter  of  old 
age,  when,  life's  pleasures  and  enjoyments  being  over,  man  is 
often  forced  to  say, 

"I  have  lived  long  enough  ;  my  way  of  life 
Is  fall'n  into  the  se7-e^  and  yellow  leqf.^* 

5.  The  writings  of  all  ages  abound  in  poetical  imagery^ 
drawn  from  the  vegetable  world ;  and  where  vegetation  is 
the  most  abundant,  it  has  exerted  the  greatest  influence  upon 
the  literature'^  of  the  people. 

* '  In  Eastern  lands  they  talk  in  flowers, 

And  they  tell  in  a  garden  their  loves  and  cares ; 
Each  blossom  that  blooms  in  their  garden  bowers, 
On  its  leaves  a  mystic^  language  bears." — Percival. 

6.  The  " flowers  of  spring,"  the  "green  fields,"  the  " ripen- 
ed fruit,"  the  "  decaying  herbage,"  whether  they  teem  with 
cheering  or  with  saddening  associations,  are  things  that  mem- 
ory ever  loves  to  dwell  upon.  How  natural  was  it  that  the 
poet,  in  describing  Falstaff's  dying  moments,  should  paint 
even  the  hoary  profligate,^  in  his  spirit  wanderings,  as  "  bab- 

-bling  of  green  fields."  And  how  touchingly  does  Cardinal 
Wolsey,  from  the  similitude'*^  of  a  plant,  portray  the  vicissi- 
tudes^i  of  hiiman  life : 

7.  "  This  is  the  state  of  man :  To-day  he  puts  forth 

The  tender  leaves  of  hope,  to-morrow  blossoms, 
And  bears  his  blushing  honors  thick  upon  him ; 
The  third  day  comes  a  frost,  a  killing  frost ; 
And — when  he  thinks,  good,  easy  man,  full  surely 
His  greatness  is  a  ripening-^nips  his  root, 
And  then  he  falls,  as  I  do. "  0 

8.  The  sacred  writers  draw  some  of  their  most  beautiful 
imagery  from  the  same  sources.  What  more  appropriate 
pictures  of  the  brevity^^  of  human  life  can  be  given  than 
these :  "  We  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf."  "  We  are  like  grass  which 
groweth  up ;  in  the  morning  it  flourisheth ;  in  the  evening  it 
is  cut  down,  and  withereth."  The  righteous  are  declared  to 
be  "  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of  water,  that  bringeth 
forth  his  fruit  in  his  season,"  and  "  whose  leaf  also  shall  not 


204 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH   EEADEE. 


Part  IH. 


wither ;"  while  the  ungodly  are  compared  to  "  an  oak  whose 
leaf  fadeth,  and  a  garden  that  hath  no  water." 

9.  Solomon,  speaking  in  the  person  of  the  coming  Savior, 
says,  "  I  am  the  rose  of  Sharon,  and  the  lily  of  the  valleys." 
The  Savior  himself  spoke  of  the  righteous  as  the  wheat,  and 
of  the  wicked  as  the  tares ;  and  he  Ukened^*  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  to  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,  which,  from  the  smallest 
beginning,  "  becometh  a  tree,  so  that  the  birds  of  the  air  come 
and  lodge  in  the  branches  thereof."  He  also  taught  of  the 
coming  of  his  kingdom  from  the  parable  of  the  fig-tree ;  and 
we  are  told  that  in  the  New  Jerusalem  was  the  "  tree  of  life^ 
whose  leaves  were  for  the  healing  of  the  nations." 

10.  Flowers  speak  a  varied  language,  and  reach  the  heart 
not  only  in  its  seasons  of  joy,  but  in  its  hours  of  sadness  also. 
Nothing  can  more  forcibly  remind  us  of  joys  forever  fled  than 
the  pale,  perishing  flowers  of  autumn : 

*'  Pale  flowers!  pale  perishing  flowers ! 

Ye're  types  of  precious  things ; 
Types  of  those  bitter  moments, 
That  flit,  like  life's  enjoyments, 

On  rapid,  rapid  wings : 
Last  hours  with  parting  dear  ones 

(That  Time  the  fastest  spends), 
Last  tears  in  silence  shed. 
Last  words  half  uttered, 

Last  looks  of  dying  friends."  C.  B.  Southet. 

11.  We  can  hardly  conceive  of  any  more  natural  associa- 
tion of  ideas  than  that  which  makes  a  rosebud  the  emblem 
of  infant  loveliness;  a  full-blown  rose  the  type^^  of  blooming 
womanhood ;  and  which  likens^*  extreme  old  age  to  the  "  last 
leaf"  of  autumn,  which  has  survived  all  its  kindred,  and  now, 
with  the  ^preaching  blasts  of  winter,  trembles  to.  its  fall. 
As  a  fitting  illustration  of  the  latter  of  these  emblems,  we  in- 
troduce the  following  gem  from  a  favorite  American  poet. 


1  "  Thkib  counsel,"  their  own  secrets. 

a  As'-PEN,  a  species  of  poplar. 

8  As  so-oi-a'-tions,  connected  ideas  ;  or, 
such  a  connection  of  ideas  that  one  natur- 
ally suggests  or  calls  up  others ;  as  when 
the  leaves  of  spring  remind  us  of  the  sea- 
son of  youth,  of  youthful  hopes,  etc. 

♦  Em'-blbms,  pictures  or  representations. 

*  SEee,  dry ;  withered. 

•  lM'-A('iE-BY,  lively  descriptions,  in  which 


one  thing  represents  another,  etc. ;   as 
the  "  last  leaf"  may  represent  old  age. 

7  1.Tt'-eb-a-tCre,  writings  ;  books,  etc. 

8  Mys'-Ti€,  hidden  ;  secret. 

9  I'bof'-t.i-gate,  a  man  abandoned  to  vice. 
10  Si-mil'-i-tOde,  likeness  ;  resemblance, 

•  I  Vi-cis'-si-tCdes,  changes. 

13  Brev'-i-ty,  shortness. 

13  Tvpe,  that  which  represents  something 

1*  I.iK'-ENf,  compares.  [else. 


1st  Div   OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OR   BOTANY.  205 


LESSON  XI. 


THE  LAST  LEAF. 

1.  I  SAW  him  once  before, 
As  he  pass'd  by  the  door\ 

And  again 
-  The  pavement  stones  resound 
As  he  totters  o'er  the  ground 
With  his  cane\ 


20.6  wtllson's  fourth  reader.  Pakt  in. 

2.  They  say  tliat  in  his  prime', 
Ere  the  pruning-knife  of  Time 

Cut  him  down', 
Not  a  better  man  was  found 
By  the  crier  on  his  round 

Through  the  town\ 

3.  But  now  he  walks  the  streets. 
And  he  looks  at  all  he  meets 

So  forlorn' ; 
And  he  shakes  his  feeble  head, 
That  it  seems  as  if  he  said', 

"  They  are  gone\" 

4.  The  mossy  marbles  rest  * 
On  the  hps  that  he  has  press'd 

In  their  bloom^ ; 
And  the  names  he  loved  to  hear 
Have  been  carved  for  many  a  yeai 

On  the  tomb\ 

5.  My  grandmamma  has  said — 
Poor  old  lady' !  she  is  dead 

Long  ago^ — 
That  he  had  a  Roman  nose\ 
And  his  cheek  was  like  a  rose 

In  the  snow\ 

6.  And  now  his  nose  is  thin\ 
And  it  rests  upon  his  chin 

Like  a  staffs ; 
And  a  crook  is  in  his  back\ 
And  a  melancholy  crack 

In  bis  laugh\ 

7.  I  know  it  is  a  sin 
For  me  to  sit  and  grin 

At  him  here', 
But  the  old  three-corner'd  hat. 
And  the  breeches — and  all  that', 

Are  so'  queer^  I* 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OR  BOTANY.  207 

8.  And  if  I  should  live  to  be 
The  last  leaf  upon  the  tree 

In  the  spring' — 
Let  them  smile  as  I  do  now^ 
At  the  old  forsaken  bough' 
Where  I  cling\ 

Oliver  W.  Holmes. 

a  More  aolemnity  and  deeper  feeling  are  expressed  by  the  inflections  as  here  given — 
the  rising  on  "so^"  and  the  falling  on  "queer,"  than  would  be  if  these  inflections  were 
transposed.  Now  the  meaning  is  simply  the  exclamatory  expression,  with  some  depth 
of  feeling,  "  How  queer  they  are^ !"  The  inflections  transposed  would  express  the  more 
trivial  meaning,  '^  They  are  so  queer'  that  I  can  not  help  laughing\" 


LESSON  XII. 
THE  FOOD  OF  PLANTS. 


1.  The  food  of  plants  consists  of  air  and  water,  and  of  the 
various  substances  dissolved  in  or  mixed  with  them.  By 
their  leaves  and  roots*  plants  absorb  loater^  which  is  com- 
posed of  the  two  gases  oxygen  and  hydrogen.  By  the  little 
breathing  holes  in  their  leaves  they  also  take  in  air^  which  is 
composed  principally  of  the  two  gases  oxygen  and  nitrogen, 
and  a  small  proportion  of  carbonic  acid.  By  the  varied  union 
of  two  or  more  of  these  constituent^  gases  nearly  all  the  parts 
of  the  plant  are  formed,  the  solids  as  well  as  the  liquids. 

2.  The  elements,  carbon,  hydrogen,  and  oxygen,  are  used 
by  the  plant,  in  various  proportions,  to  form  woody  tissue,^ 
sugar,  starch,  resin,  oils,  and  acids.  Nitrogen,  another  gas,  i# 
also  required  in  small  quantities  for  many  vegetable  products, 
especially  those  used  in  medicines,  and  it  is  found  in  the  most 
nutritious^  articles  of  food.  But,  besides  the  above,  which 
are  called  organic^  elements,  some  mineral,  earthy,  and  other 
ingredients,^  called  inorganic^  elements,  are  also  used  as 
food,  or  for  some  other  purpose,  by  different  plants,  although 
in  small  quantities. f 

3.  In  view  of  these  mineral  and  earthy  matters  which  most 

•  The  new  and  very  small  fibrous  roots  called  spongioles^  and  not  the  large  and  old 
roots,  are  what  absorb  moisture  or  food  from  the  earth.  Hence  the  importance,  in  trans- 
planting shrubs  and  trees,  of  preserving  with  care  these  little  rootlets. 

t  Such  as  potassium,  silicon,  calcium,  phosphorus,  iron,  sodium,  sulphur,  iodine,  and 
chlorine.  Even  copper  is  taken  in  by  the  roots  of  some  plants.  It  is  said  to  form  eight 
parts  in  a  million  in  coffee,  and  about  four  and  a  half  parts  in  a  million  in  wheat. 


208  WILLSOIT's  fourth  EEADER.  Part  III. 

plants  are  found  to  contain,  the  eminent  German  chemist, 
Liebig,  has  classified  cultivated  vegetables,  some  as  alkaW 
plants,  of  which  the  potato  is  an  example;  some  as  lime 
plants,  among  which  are  peas ;  some  as  silex  or  sa7id  plants, 
which  include  the  grasses ;  and  some  as  phosphorus  plants, 
among  which  are  our  grains,  wheat,  rye,  etc.     The  skin  of 
the  ratan  palm  abounds  so  much  in  silex,  which  the  plant  has 
absorbed  dissolved  in  water,  that  it  will  strike  fire  with  a 
piece  of  steel ;  the  same  substance  exists  in  other  kinds  of 
wood,  to  which  it  gives  a  peculiarly  gritty  texture  f  and  in 
j^^^  a  plant  common  in  this  country,  the  equisetum,  or  horse-tail, 
\^p        which  is  used  for  polishing  wood,  the  whole  surface  seems 
/  to  be  composed  of  compact  sandy  particles. 
*    4.   Carbonic  acid  gas^  which,  as  we  have  elsewhere  seen, 
S-C       is  very  destructive  of  animal  life,  and  is  produced  by  the 
//^breathing  of  animals  and  the  combustion^  or  decay  of  vege- 
'   table  matter,  is  the  most  essentiaP<*  of  the  substances  upon 
which  plants  are  fed.     It  is  taken  into  the  plant  both  by  the 
leaves  and  by  the  roots.    By  some  mysterious  process,  which 
we  do  not  understand,  it  is  there  decomposed,"  and,  while 
the  carbon  is  retained  to  aid  in  forming  the  solid  parts  of  the 
plant,  the  oxygen  is  returned  to  the  atmosphere.    Here,  be- 
ing breathed  by  animals,  it  again  meets  with  its  old  friend 
carbon,  unites  with  it,  and  carbonic  acid  is  again  sent  forth 
from  animal  lungs  to  supply  other  vegetables  with  carbon. 

6.  Thus,  day  by  day,  the  whole  vegetable  world  is  grow- 
ling up  before  our  eyes,  forming  one  half  of  its  solid  bulk  out 
of  a  portion  of  the  same  air  that  we  breathe  —  the  carbon 
which  it  borrows  from  the  atmosphere  and  from  decaying 
vegetation — while  nine  tenths  of  the  other  half  are  common 
water.*  Strange  though  it  may  seem  to  us,  yet  we  know 
that  the  solid  parts  of  our  wooden  dwellings,  of  our  ships 
that  sail  on  the  ocean,  of  our  sturdy  forest  oaks,  are  formed 
almost  wholly  of  compressed^^  ^nd  hardened  air  and  water. 
And  when  the  vegetation  that  robes  the  summer  landscape 
with  beauty  falls  asleep  in  the  lap  of  autumn,  and  when  these 
forests  that  surround  us  fall,  and  put  on  the  change  which 

*  A  plant  is  said  to  retain  about  one  third  part  of  all  the  water  that  enters  its  system, 
and  to  change  it  into  a  solid  form. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OR   BOTANY.  209 

we  call  decay,  they  merely  return  to  earth  and  air  again, 
that  succeeding  generations  of  vegetable  life  may  feed  upon 
and  be  clothed  with  the  same  materials. 

6.  Many  are  the  mysteries  in  vegetable  life  that  we  do  not 
understand.  It  is,  indeed,  all  a  mystery.  We  can  not  even 
tell  why  plants  vary  in  form,  and  structure,^^  and  modes  of 
growth;  why  some  bask  in  the  sunlight,  and  others  court 
the  shade ;  why  those  growing  in  the  same  soil,  and  feeding 
upon  the  same  air  and  water,  put  on  different  colors ;  why 
one  converts  its  juices  into  poison,  and  another  furnishes  a 
delicious  and  wholesome  beverage.  Nor  has  man  been  ena- 
bled to  tell  hoxc^  out  of  the  very  same  materials,  the  plant 
can  form  different  substances — how  out  of  carbon,  hydrogen, 
and  oxygen,  it  can  form  woody  fibre,  and  starch,  and  gum, 
and  sugar,  and  also  an  acid  that  is  in  all  respects  like  vinegar. 

7.  Yet  all  this  the  plant  accomplishes  in  its  chemical  labora- 
tory,^'^ with  a  refinements^  of  skill  far  beyond  what  man  pos- 
sesses. Man  can  not  take  the  elements  and  combine  them  as 
the  plant  does ;  they  will  not  unite  at  his  bidding.  Yet  the 
chemical  processes  which  the  plant  performs  must  not  be  re- 
garded as  the  blind  operations  of  Nature ;  they  are  strictly 
in  accordance  with  definite  laws  which  God  has  given  it; 
and,  while  we  view  the  results  of  these  laws  with  admiration 
and  wonder,  we  should  not  forget  their  origin. 

8.  But,  although  man  can  not  do  what  the  plant  does,  he 
may, aid  the  plant  in  performing  many  of  its  secret  opera- 
tions ;  by  knowing  "  how  plants  grow,"  he  may  furnish  them 
food  of  the  right  kind,  and  he  may  thus  cause  the  landscape 
to  put  on  a  robe  of  brighter  green,  the  harvests  to  yield  more 
abundantly,  and  even  the  desert  and  waste  places  to  bud  and 
blossom  like  the  rose. 


1  •eoN-sTiT'-tj-ENT,  forming,  composing,  or 
making,  as  an  essential  part. 

2  TTs'-suE,  the  woody  portions,  which  have 
the  appearance  of  threads  woven  together. 

3  Nc-trT'-tiou8,  nourishing. 

*  0r-gan'-i€,  those  used  in  forming  the  or- 
gans, vessels,  etc. ,  of  plants. 

»  In-gre'-di-ents,  the  several  parts  which 
make  up  a  thing. 

6  In-oe-gan'-i€,  not  forming  part  of  the  or- 
gans. 

^  Xl'-ka-lt,  a  substance  capable  of  destroy- 
ing the  effect  of  an  acid. 


8  TSxT'-f  BE,  character ;  formation. 
5  €om-bCs'-tion,  burning. 

10  Es-skn'-tial,  important. 

11  De-€OM-po$'£d,  separated  into  its  constit- 
uent parts. 

12  €om-pre88'ed,  pressed  or  brought  close 
together. 

13  Stru€t'-Gee,   internal  arrangement    of 
parts. 

1*  Lab'-o-ra-to-ry,   workshop;    place   for 

chemical  operations. 
15  Re-fIne'-ment,  exceeding  nicety ;  great 

exactness. 


210  wellson's  FOUETH  BEADEB.  PabtIII. 


LESSON  XIII.^ 
THE  MYSTERIES  OF  VEGETATION. 

1.  We  know  not  why  the  beech  delights  the  glade^ 
With  boughs  extended,  and  a  rounder  shade', 
While  towering  firs  in  conic^  forms  arise, 

And  with  a  pointed  spear  divide  the  skies'; 
Nor  why,  again,  the  changing  oak  should  shed 
The  yearly  honor  of  his  stately  head, 
While  the  distinguished  yew  is  ever  seen 
Unchanged  in  branch,  and  permanent  in  green. 

2.  Wanting  the  sun',  why  does  the  caltha  fade^  ? 
Why  does  the  cypress^  flourish  in  the  shade^  ? 
The  fig,  and  date,  why  love  they  to  remain 
In  middle  station,  and  an  even  plain\ 
While  in  the  lower  marsh  the  gourd  is  found, 
And  while  the  hill  with  olive  shade  is  crown'd^  ? 

■  3.  Why  does  one  climate  and  one  soil  endue'^ 
The  blushing  poppy  with  a  crimson  hue. 
Yet  leave  the  lily  pale,  and  tinge  the  violet  blue^  ? 
Why  does  the  fond  carnation  love  to  shoot 
A  various  color  from  one  parent  root. 
While  the  fantastic^  tuUp  strives  to  break  • 

In  two-fold  beauty  and  a  parted  streak^  ? 

4.  The  twining  jasmine',  and  the  blushing  rose^, 

With  lavish  grace  their  morning  scents  disclose^ ; 

The  swelling  tuberose,  and  jonquil  fair', 

Impart  their  fragrance  to  the  evening  air\ 

Whence  has  the  lofty  tree,  or  modest  flower, 

A  various  instinct,  or  a  different  power^  ?  [breath'. 

Why  should  one  earth\  one  clime\  one  stream\  one 

Raise  this'  to  strength^  and  sicken  tfmt'  to  death^  ? 

Prior. 

'  Gladh,  an  opening  in  a  wood.  1 3  C5'-peess,  an  evergreen ;  the  white  cedar. 

»  €6n'-t€,  tapering  upward  to  a  point  in  the  *  En-dOb',  clothe  ;  supply  with, 
form  of  a  cone.  |s  Fan-tas'-tis,  gay ;  gaudy. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OE   B0TA1<-Y. 


211 


LESSON  XIV. 
PLANTS,  THE  LUNGS  OF  CITIES. 

1.  Public  squares  and  spacious  streets,  well  set  with  trees, 
have  been  aptly^  called  the  lungs  of  cities.  It  is  certain  that 
the  two  great  organized  kingdoms  of  nature — the  animal  and 
vegetable — are  designed  to  co-operate^  in  their  mutual  de- 
velopment.^ The  beautiful  Persian  fable,  which  describes  the 
rose  and  the  nightingale  as  shut  up  in  a  crystal  cage,  and 
mutually  giving  life  to  each  other,  though  not  strictly  correct 
as  to  the  action  of  the  flower^  is  forcibly  illustrative  of  the 
relative  actions  of  animal  and  vegetable  hfe. 

2.  In  modern  aquaria'^  the  theory  becomes  reality,  for 
aquatic  plants  keep  the  water  in  which  they  grow  in  a  fit 
state  to  sustain  animal  life.  It  is  a  fact  Avell  known  that  fish- 
es do  not  thrive  well  in  reservoirs^  destitute  of  aquatic  vege- 
tation. The  water  of  an  aquarium  need  not  be  changed  for 
weeks  or  months,  if  there  is  a  proper  proportion  of  such 
plants  as  grow  in  water.  This,  then,  is  the  great  secret  of 
the  aquarium :  the  plants  afibrd  a  supply  of  oxygen  to  the  ani- 
mals, while  the  animals  supply  the  plants  with  the  carbon 
which  is  indispensable^  to  their  growth. 

3.  So  in  the  atmosphere.  In  large  cities,  where  carbonic 
acid  gas  is  produced  in  large  quantities  from  the  lungs  of 
multitudes  of  people,  and  from  the  great  number  of  fires  kept 
constantly  burning,  trees  act  as  purifiers,  by  absorbing  the 
carbonic  acid  which  is  poisonous  to  man,  and  by  restoring  to 
the  air  the  life-supporting  oxygen.  Throughout  all  portions 
of  the  globe  this  principle  is  in  constant  operation,  evincing"^ 
the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Deity  in  thus  beautifully 
harmonizing^  the  operations  of  Nature. 


'  apt'-ly,  properly ;  fitly. 

2  €o-5p-er-ate,  act  together. 

3  De-vei.'-op-ment,  growth ;  progress  to 
higher  forms. 

*  A-qtia'-ki-a  (the  plural  of  aquarium),  little 
ponds,  or  vessels,  for  rearing  water  plants 
with  water  animals. 


5  Ees-ek-voie'  (rez-er-vwor')^  a  place  where 
water  is  kept  in  store  for  fountains,  etc. 

6  In-dis-picn'-sa-ble,  absolutely  necessary. 
■^  E-vin'-cing,  showing  ;  making  plain. 

8  Har'-mo-ni-zing,  causing  to  agree. 


212 


willson's  fourth  eeadee. 


Part  HI. 


LESSON  XV. 
BUDS. 

1.  A  BUD  has  been  called  a  repe- 
tition of  the  plant  on  which  it 
grows.  It  is  common  to  give  the 
name  hud  to  that  scaly  envelope^ 
which  contains  the  rudiments^  of  a 
new  plant ;  but  such  scales  are  not 
required  to  form  a  bud,  except  in 
cold  climates. 

2.  The  first  appearance  of  a  young 
branch  or  flower  is  the  bud,  and  a 
new  and  independent  plant  is  con- 
tained in  it,  as  much  as  in  a  seed.  Buds  not  only 
terminate  growing  branches,  but  appear  in  what 
are  termed  axils^  or  the  acute  angles  formed  by 

the  leaves  and  the  stem.  From  the  buds  spring  branches, 
which  are  in  all  respects  like  the  main  stem,  and  which  pre- 
sent an  arrangement  similar  to  the  leaves. 

3.  Many  buds  are  never  fully  developed,^  but  seem  to  have 
been  produced  as  a  resource'^  in  case  of  the  destruction  of 
any.  Thus,  if  the  terminaP  bud  be  destroyed,  lateral^  buds, 
that  otherwise  would  have  remained  undeveloped,  put  forth 
shoots,  and  the  growth  of  the  plant  is  scarcely  checked.  It 
is  on  this  principle  that  hedges  are  thickened  by  trimming 
off  the  tops,  a  process  well  known  to  gardeners. 

4.  Irregular  buds  often  appear  in  stems  gorged"^  with  sap. 
The  rich  and  much  admired  grain  known  as  bird's-eye  maple 
is  attributed  to  the  numerous  buds  which  have  appeared  from 
time  to  time  during  the  growth  of  the  tree.  Frequently  two 
buds  appear,  side  by  side,  instead  of  one,  owing  to  an  excess 
of  nutritious^  sap. 

6.  Thorns  are  supposed  to  result  from  an  imperfect  growth 
of  what  should  have  been  branches  -or  stems.  It  is  well 
known  that  many  plants,  which  in  a  wild  state  abound  in 
thorns,  become  free  from  them  by  cultivation.     In  such  cases 


1st  DiV.  OF.  .VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OR   BOTANY.  213 

the  increased  supply  of  nourishment  afforded  the  plant  by 
better  tillage  enables  the  buds  to  become  branches  instead  of 
thorns.  TJiorns  are  of  woody  structure,  and  grow  from  the 
branch  or  stem ;  whilQ  prickles  only  grow  from  the  bark,  and 
may  be  peeled  off  with  it,  as  will  appear  by  stripping  the 
bark  from  a  rose-bush. 

6.  It  should  be  mentioned  here  that,  as  a  leaf-bud  is  really 
a  separate  and  complete  plant  in  itself — like  the  parent  plant 
on  which  it  grows — if  the  leaf-bud  can  be  transferred^  to  an- 
other plant,  and  made  to  take  root  in  and  grow  upon  it,  it 
will  produce  a  stem  having  the  same  qualities  as  the  parent 
plant  from  which  it  was  taken.  Thus,  if  a  leaf-bud  from  a 
greening  apple-tree  be  transferred^  to  another  tree,  and  made 
to  grow  upon  it,  it  will  produce  the  same  kind  of  apples  as 
its  parent  stem. 

V.  But  if  the  seed  of  a  greening  apple  be  planted,  and  grow 
and  produce  fruit,  it  will,  indeed,  bear  apples,  but  it  is  uncer- 
tain what  kind  of  apple ;  it  may  be  sweet  or  sour,  a  russet 
or  a  pippin,  or  perhaps  some  new  kind  not  before  known.  It 
is  from  seeds  alone  that  new  kinds  can  be  produced.  But  if 
any  particular  kind  of  plant  is  to  be  multiplied,^^  it  can  only 
be  done  by  aid  of  its  leaf-buds — by  planting  the  stems  which 
spring  from  them,  or  by  the  common  gardening  operations 
of  budding  and  grafting. 

8.  It  is  only  plants  whose  fruit  is  of  a  like  general  charac- 
ter that  can  be  mutually  transferred  in  this  way.  The  buds 
of  the  pear,  the  crab-apple,  the  common  apple,  and  the  quince, 
can  be  made  to  grow  each  upon  the  others;  but  an  apple 
will  not  grow  upon  a  peach-tree  or  a  cherry-tree.  The  proc- 
ess of  budding  and  grafting  was  known  and  practiced  as  long 
ago  as  the  days  of  Virgil. 

9.  But  various  are  the  ways  to  change  the  state 
Of  plants;  to  bud/^  graft/^  and  inoculate." 
For  where  the  tender  rinds"  of  trees  disclose'* 
Their  shooting  germs,  a  swelling  knot  there  grows  j 
Just  in  that  place  a  narrow  slit  we  make, 

Then  other  buds  from  bearing  trees  we  take ; 

Inserted  thus,  the  wounded  rind  we  close, 

In  whose  moist  folds  the  infant  budlet'*  grows. 


214 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH  EEADEE. 


Part  IK. 


10.  But  when  the  smoother  stem  from  knots  is  free, 

We  make  a  deep  incision"  in  the  tree, 
And  in  the  solid  wood  the  slip  inclose  ; 
The  foster-plantlet^''  shoots  again  and  grows; 
And  in  short  space  the  laden  boughs  arise, 
With  happy  fruit  advancing  to  the  skies. 
The  mother  plant  admires  the  leaves  unknown 
Of  alien^^  trees,  and  apples  not  her  own. 

Virgil,  Georgicil. 


1  En'-vel-ope,  an  inclosing  cover. 

2  Rd'-di-mejsts,  beginnings ;  first  princi- 
ples. 

'  De-vkl'-oped,  unfolded ;  fully  grown. 
*  Re-sotjbce',  a  resort  when  others  fail. 

5  Teem'-in-al,  growing  at  the  end. 

6  Lat'-ee-al,  growing  at  the  side. 
'  GSeged,  filled ;  glutted. 

8  Nt:-TEi"-Tioup,  nourishing. 

9  Teans-fer'eed  to,  conveyed  to. 
io  Mul'-ti-plTei»,  increased. 

11  "To  BUD,"  or  "to  rx-oe'-tr-LATE,"  is  to 
insert  the  bud  of  one  plant  or  tree  in  or 
under  the  bark  of  another. 


12  ''To  graft"  is  to  insert  a  small  shoot  or 
cutting.  It  is  generally  done  by  cutting 
off  a  stem,  splitting  it,  and  inserting  the 
shoot  in  the  cleft. 

13  EiND,  bark  ;  outer  covering. 
1*  Dis-olose',  show. 

15  Bud'-let,  a  little  bud. 

16  In-ci*'-ion,  a  cut;  gash  ;  slit. 

17  "Fos'-ter-plant'-let,"  a  little  .  plant 
that  grows  on  a  stem  that  ia  not  its  parent 
stem. 

18  al'-ien,  foreign. 


LESSON  XYI. 
LEAF  AKRANGEMENT. 

1.  The  laws  by  which  leaves  are  arranged  on  the  stem  ap- 
ply also  to  the  arrangement  of  branches  and  thorns,  as  the 
latter  arise  from  buds  in  the  axils^  of  the  leaves.  This  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  divisions  of  Botany,  especially  when 
the  very  law  that  regulates  the  position  of  leaves,  twigs,  and 
branches  is  found  to  prevail  in  the  arrangement  and  revolu- 
tions of  the  planetary  worlds,  thus  plainly  indicating  that  the 
same  Being  who  clothed  the  lilies  of  the  field  in  beauty  sur- 
passing the  regaP  splendor  of  Solomon,  "  made  the  stars  also." 

2.  In  the  arrangement  of  leaves  even  mathematical  precis- 
ion is  manifest.  Observe  the  leaves  of  grass,  how  one  is  over 
one  side  of  the  stem,  and  the  next  on  the  opposite  side,  while 
the  third  comes  directly  over  the  first,  and  the  fourth  over 
the  second.  When  each  leaf  is  thus  one  halfway  round,  the 
arrangement  is  called  alternate.  In  sedges,  and  in  that  pest^ 
of  farmers  and  gardeners  called  nut-grass,  each  leaf  is  09ie 
third  the  way  round  the  stem  from  the  one  below  it. 

3.  Cherry  and  apple  trees  have  the  leaves  and  twigs  tioo 


1st  Div.  OP  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OR  BOTANY. 


215 


Arrangement  of  the  Leaves 
of  the  Cherry. 


fifths  of  the  way  round,  reckoning  from  any  leaf  to  the  one 
above  it — that  is,  five  leaves  appear  in  a  spiral*  of  two  revo- 
lutions round  the  stem,  and  the  sixth 
leaf,  which  is  exactly  above  the  first, 
commences  a  new  series.  In  the  holly, 
and  a  large  number  of  trees,  it  may  be 
seen  that  from  one  leaf  to  another  di- 
rectly above  there  are  eight  spaces  be- 
tween leaves,  and  that  a  spiral  line  pass- 
ing through  the  bases^  of  the  leaf-stems 
will  make  just  three  turns.  In  this  ar- 
rangement the  leaves  are  three  eighths 
of  the  circumference  of  the  stem  from 
each  other. 

4.  In  wormwood  the  leaves  are  five 
thirteenths  of  the  circumference  apart; 
in  cones  of  some  species  of  pine-trees  twenty-07ie  leaves  are 
found  in  a  spiral  of  eight  turns,  while  in  others  the  leaf  dis- 
tances are  thirteen  thirty-fourths  of  the  circumference.  With 
a  few  exceptions,  which  perhaps  may  have  arisen  from  the 
failure  of  some  leaf-germs  to  be  developed,  the  leaves  of  each 
species  of  plant  are  arranged  at  regular  distances  from  each 
other  around  the  stem,  although  these  distances  vary  in  dif- 
ferent species.  Even  in  fruits,  as  in  the  protuberances^  of 
the  pine-apple,  this  beautiful  order  is  apparent.  The  plan 
seems  to  have  been,  amid  great  diversity "^  of  position,  to  give 
to  each  leaf  its  proper  share  of  air  and  light,  which  would 
not  have  been  attained  by  a  miscellaneous^  arrangement. 

t5.  It  thus  appears  that  the  leaves  of  plants  do  not  take  po- 
ions  as  if  by  chance,  starting  out  here  and  there  at  random, 
but,  making  their  appearance  in  the  lines  of  regular  revolving 
spirals,  they  obey  definite  laws  in  their  arrangement.  What 
is  still  more  curious,  a  law  in  all  respects  similar  appears  to 
extend  to  the  solar  system  itself,  and  to  govern  the  revolu- 
tions of  the  heavenly  bodies ;  for  the  same  numbers  that  ex- 
press the  relative  distances  in  the  arrangement  of  leaves  of 
different  species  around  their  central  stem,  denote  very  near- 
ly the  relative  times  of  the  revolutions  of  the  planetary 
worlds  around  their  central  sun. 


216 


WILLSON  S    FOURTH   EEADER. 


Part  IH. 


6.  Thus,  regarding  Neptune  as  the  most  distant  of  the 
planets,  we  find  that  Uranus,^  the  next  in  order,  revolves 
around  the  sun,  to  speak  in  round  numbers,  in  one  half  of 
the  time  of  Neptune ;  Saturn  in  one  third  of  the  time  of  Ura- 
nus ;  Jupiter  in  two  fifths  of  the  time  of  Saturn ;  the  Aste- 
roids, which  supply  the  place  of  a  missing  planet,  in  three 
eighths  of  the  tijue  of  Jupiter ;  and  so  on  down  to  Mercury, 
the  planet  nearest  the  sun,  whose  time  of  revolution  is  not 
far  ft'om  thirteen  thirty  fourths  of  that  of  Venus,  its  nearest 
neighbor. 

7.  These  numbers  singularly  corresjDond  with  those  which 
denote  the  relative  distances  of  the  leaves  of  different  species 
of  trees,  shrubs,  and  herbs,  in  their  Spiral  revolutions  around 
the  central  axis^°  of  their  orbits.^^  When  we  find  the  meas- 
ures used  in  scanning  "  the  plants,  the  poetry  of  earth,"  and 
"the  stars,  the  poetry  of  heaven,"  to  be  the  same,  shall  we 
doubt  that  one  designer  planned  the  whole  ?* 


Ax'-iL,  the  angle,  on  the  upper  side,  form- 
ed by  a  branch  with  a  stem  or  leaf. 
RE'-GAL,  kingly ;  royal. 
Pest,  plague ;  any  thing  veiy  troublesome. 
Spi'-ral,  a  line  that  winds  like  a  screw. 
Ba'-8e»,   plural  of  bd'-sis,   lower   ends  ; 
that  on  which  they  rest. 
Pbo-tu'-bee-an-ce»,  the  little  knobs  or 
bunches. 


I'  Di-YEE8'-i--fY,  variety. 

8  Mi8-cel-la'-me-oc8,  irregular;  without 
rule. 

9  U'-ra-nus. 

10  Ax'-i8,  2>lural  ax'-es,  the  central  part  of 
a  stem  ;  that  around  which  any  thing  re- 
volves. 

11  Orb'-it,  the  path  or  track  of  a  revolving 
body. 


*  Explanatory  Note. — The  following  fractions  show  the  distances  around  the  stem 
from  one  leaf  to  another,  in  different  species  of  plants  : 

1123        6  8        1321 

Y)  IS-i    S"'  "B?  TS->  TT'  Til    5  6- 

In  the  third  fraction  in  the  series,  2  revolutions  give  5  leaves  ;  in  the  fourth,  3  revolu- 
tions give  8  leaves,  and  so  on.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  sum  of  any  two  consecutive  nu- 
merators gives  the  next  numerator.  The  same  is  also  true  of  the  denominators.  Tfag 
value  of  each  fraction  after  the  second  is  between  ■!•  and  ^.  ^JH^ 

Nentune  60  000  davs  ^°  ^^^  adjoining  table  the  time   of  revolnW^ 

''         '  ^  '         1  of  the  planets  is  given  in  approximate  or  round 

Uranus 30,000     "     =:  •5-  numbers,  and   also   the  fraction   or   ratio   of  the 

Saturn 10,000    "     :::i:   -^  time  of  one  planet  to  the  time  of  the  one  exterior 

Jupiter 4,000    "     =    r,        jj.  ^y^u  -^^  ggg^  that  these  fractions,  which  nearly 

Asteroids  (near) .    1,500    "     =  ■§■  represent  the  ratio  of  planetary  periodical  rev- 

,,  -„f»     n      _  5  olutions,  are  the  same  as  those  which  represent 

'*^*" "  ~"nr  the   law    of  Phyllotaxif^   or    LeaJ'  AirangcmerU. 

Earth 365     "  ^  •      „  The  break  in  the  series  at  the  Earth,  where  the 

Ygjjyg  224    "  /  ~7il  ratio  eight  twenty-one  is  that  of  the  year  of  Venus 

^  „  to  the  year  of  Mars,  will  be  best  explained  in  a 

Mercury 88    "     — :j4:  subsequent  article  on  Astronomy. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OK   BOTAlfY.  21 7 


LESSON  xvn. 

VEGETABLE  KEPRODUCTION.— FLOWERS. 

1.  "  God  might  have  made  the  earth  bring  forth 

Enough  for  one  and  all, 
The  oak-tree  and  the  cedar-tree 
Without  a  flower  at  all. 

2.  "He  surely  might  have  made  enough 

For  every  want  of  ours — 
For  luxury,  medicine,  and  toil — 
And  yet  have  made  no  flowers." 

3.  These  verses  by  Mrs.  Hewitt  are  very  pretty,  and,  in  a 
certain  sense,  very  true ;  but,  while 
it  is  admitted  that  God  might  have 
made  and  propagated^  the  oak-tree 
and  the  cedar-tree  without  flowers, 
it  is  manifest^  that  he  has  not  chosen 
to  do  so. 

4.  We  read  that,  Jby  Divine  com- 
mand, "the  earth  brought  forth 
grass,  and  herb  yielding  seed  after 

his  kind,  and  the  tree  yielding  fruit,  ^^  ^^  ^^^  ^-^^  i,i^„, 
whose  seed  was  in  itself,  after  his 
kind."  The  organs^  especially  designed  to  secure  the  multi- 
plication or  propagation  of  plants  are  the  flower,  fruit,  and 
seed;  and  they  depend  on  each  other  in  the  order  in  which 
they  are  named. 

5.  It  is  true  that  plants  are  often  multiplied  by  separation 
of  shoots  or  buds,  which,  being  complete  in  themselves,  con- 
stitute an  individual  plant.  Many  leaves,  as  those  of  the  or- 
ange and  fig,  may  be  separated  from  their  stems,  and,  if  care- 
fully placed  in  the  earth  by  their  petiole*  or  leaf-stalk,  will 
take  root  and  produce  new  plants.  Dahlias,^  potatoes,  and 
tulips  are,  propagated  from  tubers  or  bulbs ;  roses,  vines,  etc., 
by  cuttings  or  slips  placed  in  earth;  and  apples,  pears,  and 
quinces  by  grafting  or  budding.  This  is,  however,  rathei* 
vegetable  continuation  and  multiplication  than  reproduc- 
tion.^ '  • 

K 


218 


WILLSON'S   FOURTH   EEADEK. 


pakt  ni. 


6.  The  flower,  which  Pliny  fancifully  called  "  the  joy  of  the 
trees,"  is  a  peculiar  kind  of  branch,  consisting  of  a  peculiar 
kind  of  leaves ;  and,  whatever  the  laws  are  of  the  arrange- 
ment of  branches  with  respect  to  each  other,  the  same  will 
regulate  the  arrangement  of  flowers.  A  leaf-bud,  starting  in 
all  respects  apparently  like  its  fellows,  becomes  changed  by 
some  cause  of  which  we  are  ignorant,  although  supposed  to 
be  by  an  increased  supply  of  nutriment,"  and  thus  what  would 
otherVise  have  been  a  branch  or  a  leaf  becomes  a  flower, 
perhaps  of  exceeding  beauty  in  coloring,  fragrant  in  odors, 
and  producing  a  fruit  luscious^  to  the  taste.  Similar  and 
equally  important  changes,  which  will  be  hereafter  noticed, 
take  place  in  other  departments  of  Natural  History. 

7.  A  complete  flower  consists  of  four  parts,  or  series  of  or- 
gans, viz.,  calyx,  corolla,^  stamens,  and  pistil.  (See  Fig.  15.) 
The  two  former  are  rather  ornamental  than  essential,  as  a 
flower,  botanically  speaking,  can  consist  of  stamens  and  pis- 
til alone.  Stamens  and  pistils  are  the  essential^ ^  organs  of  a 
flower ;  but  sometimes  there  is  only  one  of  these  present,  the 
other  organ  being  in  another  blossom  on  the  same  plant,  as 
in  the  Indian  corn,  where  the  ear  is  but  half  a  flower,  having 
for  pistils  what  we  commonly  call  the  silk,  while  the  tassel  is 
the  other  half,  containing  the  stamens. 

8.  This  mode  of  flowering  is  seen  in  many  forest  trees,  as 
the  oak,  beach,  chestnut,  birch,  and  walnut.  Frequently, 
also,  one  half  of  the  flower,  or  the  blossom  with  one  essential 
organ,  is  on  one  plant,  and  the  other  organ  on  another  plant. 


Fig.  15. 


The  several  Parts  of  a  complete  Flower. 

Fig.  15  shows  the  different  parts  of  the  flower  of  the 
Evening  rrimrose,  O'Jnothera  fniticosa. 

Pe^  Pc,  in  the  drawing  on  the  left,  are  the  petals  of  the 
flower,  within  which  are  the  stamens  surrounding  the 
pistil.  The  calyx,  which  is  at  the  base  of  the  flower, 
has  been  removed,  but  its  four  sepals  may  be  seen 
turned  down  at  «,  on  the  stem  at  the  right.  Here  the 
petals  have  been  removed,  the  better  to  show  the  sta- 
mens, St,  and  the  pistil,  Pi.  The  top  of  the  pistil  of 
this  flower  is  divided  into  four  narrow  stigynan;  but  in 
many  plants  it  is  a  mere  roundish  knob.  The  letters 
a  a  show  flie  anthem.,  or  knobs  on  the  top  of  the  std- 
menif.  At  o  is  the  (/-va-rp,  which  contains  the  seed. 
In  many  plants  the  ovary  is  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
pi^^til,  within  the  petals.  At  ov  is  shown  the  ovary,  in 
a  more  advanced  state,  cut  across.  At  Pol  are  shown 
grains  of  pollen  from  the  anthers,  highly  magnified. 


1st  DiV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OR   BOTANY.  219 

This  is  the  case  with  the  hop,  hemp,  willow,  prickly-ash,  and 
red  cedar. 

9.  The  calyx^  which  forms  the  outermost  part  of  a  com- 
plete flower,  consists  of  one  or  more  leaves,  called  sepals. 
Sepals  are  generally  of  a  green  color,  and  are  arranged  around 
the  lower  part  of  the  flower.  The  term  cdlyx^  or  eup^  itself 
indicates  its  position  to  any  one  who  can  recall  to  mind  the 
appearance  of  a  rose-bud. 

10.  The  corolla,  which  is  in  common  language  called  the 
flower,  consists  of  one  or  more  leaves,  termed  petals.  Petals 
are  really  leaves ;  but  they  differ  from  leaves  constituting  fo- 
liage much  more  than  sepals.  They  are  seldom  green,  but 
presently  the  most  brilliant  colors,  and  perform  but  to  a  very 
limited  extent,  if  at  all,  the  breathing  processes  described 
under  the  head  of  leaves. 

11.  Corollas  are  mon-o-pet'-al-ous  or  pol-y-pet'-al-ous — that 
is,  they  have  one  petal  or  more  than  one,  according  as  they 
consist  of  one  or  more  leaves.  Beyond  this  distinction  flow- 
ers are  variously  shaped,  presenting  to  the  eye  a  diversity  as 
interesting  in  form  as  in  color.  Among  the  mon-o-pet'-al-ous, 
or  one-leaved  corollas,  we  find  those  that  spread  out  the  di- 
visions of  their  petal  in  the  form  of  a  salver,  others  that  di- 
verge like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel ;  some  that,  like  the  morn- 
ing-glory, are  shaped  like  a  tunnel ;  some  that  are  bell-form- 
ed ;  and  others  that,  like  the  sage  and  snapdragon,  are  call 
ed  labiate^  or  lip  flowers,  from  their  resemblance  to  the  lips 
and  mouth  of  animals. 

12.  The  pol-y-pet'-al-ous,  or  many-leaved  corollas,  exhibit 
a  stiU  greater  variety  of  forms.  Among  these  may  be  men- 
tioned those  which,  like  the  pea-blossom,  are  said  to  be  but- 
terfly-shaped, because  they  resemble  the  wings  of  a  butterfly ; 
those  which  'resemble  the  lily,  the  rose,  or  the  pink ;  those 
which  are  bell-formed,  and  salver-shaped,  and  wheel-shaped ; 
and  those  which,  as  the  cabbage,  mustard,  turnip,  and  wall- 
flowers, are  called  cross-shaped^  because  their  four  petals  are 
in  the  form  of  a  cross.  The  seeds  of  all  plants  which  have 
cross-shaped  corollas  are  arranged  in  a  kind  of  pod  ;  and  they 
are  distinguished  from  other  seeds  by  containing  sulphur,  the 
chemical  effect  of  which  is  seen  when  a  silver  spoon  is  used 


220  willson's  fourth  BEADEE.  Part  III. 

with  mustard.     The  names  of  the  principal  forms  of  flowers 
are  given  in  the  explanation  below. 

13.  But,  besides  those  which  have  been  mentioned,  there 
are  many  very  irregular  flowers,  such  as  the  violet,  colum- 
bine, ^^  and  nasturtion.  Formerly  the  term  nectary  was  ap- 
plied to  petals  of  unusual  shape,  especially  when  the  flowers 
were  much  frequented  by  bees ;  but  this  term  is  not  now 
used  by  botanists  as  applicable  to  any  distinct  organ  or  part. 
Sometimes  the  general  term  perianth}'^  is  given  to  the  leaves 
of  a  flower  when  they  are  not  readily  distinguished  as  sej^als 
or  petals. 

14.  We  know  not  the  causes  which  dispose^'^  the  parts  of 
some  buds  to  become  sepals,  petals,  etc.,  while  others  become 
leaves ;  but  a  flower  is  always  prepared  in  the  centre  of  a 
bud,  or  embosomed  among  its  leaves  a  long  time  before  they 
expand.  In  general  a  flower  is  formed  rapidly,  a  few  months 
at  most  being  sufficient  to  pass  it  through  all  its  stages  of 
growth.  In  certain  palms^  however,  some  years  appear  to  be 
required  ;  and  it  is  said  that  the  rudiments^^  of  a  flower  may 
be  discovered  in  the  bud  of  a  palm  as  many  as  seven  years, 
in  some  instances,  before  the  perfect  flower  expands.^^ 

15.  While  annuals^*^  flower  in  a  few  weeks  after  their  seeds 
are  sown,  biennials^^  demand  some  months,  perennials^^  a 
longer  time,  and  trees  several  years.  Some,  again,  blossom  in 
the  winter,  as  the  Christmas  rose  and  the  fragrant  geranium ; 
others  in  the  earliest  spring,  as  the  snowdrop  and  the  crocus ; 
while  others  can  not  be  made,  by  any  known  artificial  means, 
to  advance  their  time  of  flowering  even  a  few  weeks. 

16.  A  great  diflerencc  is  also  observable  in  the  hours  at 

The  principal  Forms  of  Flowers^  mth  their  Names. 
3 


1.  The  flower  called  Phlox  is  salver-shaped ;  the  bolauical  term  for  whicli  ia  hy-pn. 
cra-ter' -i-fom\,.  2.  Woody  Nightshade ;  wheel-shaped,  or  ro'-We.  3.  Tobacco ;  fun- 
nel-shaped, or  in-fun-dib' -u-li'form.  4.  Canterbury  Bell;  bell-shaped,  or  cam-pan' -u- 
late.  5.  Mustard ;  cross-shaped,  or  cru'-ci-form.  6.  Pink ;  pink-shaped,  or  cnr-y-o- 
phi/l-ld'-eeous.  1.  Lily ;  lily-like,  or  lil-i-d'-ceons.  8.  Catnip,  Sage,  etc. ;  lip-shaped, 
or  id'-bi-ate.    9.  Pea,  Bean,  etc. ;  butterfly-shaped,  or  2>a-2nlio-nd'-ceott3. 


1st  Div.  OF  ..  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OR  BOTAISTY.  221 

which  they  open  their  blossoms.  One  expands  at  dawn  of 
day ;  another  species  a  few  hours  later ;  a  third  at  midday ; 
some  in  the  early  evening ;  and  others,  like  the  night-bloom- 
ing cereus,  when  darkness  has  estabhshed  her  dominion. 
Hence  what  are  called  the  watches^  or  dials  of  the  flowers^ 
have  been  constructed  —  tables  in  which  every  hour  of  the 
day  is  filled  up  by  the  opening  of  some  flower.    ^^^^^,^^  (^^^j/^^^^y^-. 

17.  "  'Twas  a  lovely  thought  to  mark  the  hours,    /h^    J^^^vj/y^^ 

As  they  floated  in  light  away,  J^  '  ^^P^ 

♦       By  the  opening  and  the  folding  flowers. 
That  laugh  to  the  summer's  day. 

♦'  Thus  had  each  moment  its  oi^  rich  hue. 
And  its  graceful  cup  and  bell, 
"       In  whose  color'd  vase  might  sleep  the  dew. 

Like  a  pearl  in  an  ocean  shell."  Hemans. 

1 8.  In  all  their  vast  variety  of  size,  and  form,  and  color ; 
in  the  various  odors  which  they  exhale  f^  in  their  wide  dis- 
persion throughout  all  climes ;  in  their  periods  of  repose ;  in 
their  hours  and  seasons  of  blossoming  and  decay;  and  in 
their  very  frailty,  flowers  speak  to  the  heart  a  varied  lan- 
guage— a  language  that  appeals  to  every  condition  and  cir- 
cumstance in  Hfe;  they  are  full  of  A^truction;  and  they 
cheer  man's  pathway  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 


1  Peop'-a-gI-ted,  cauaed  to  multiply  or  in- 
crease. 

2  Man'-i-fest,  plain;  evident. 

3  Or'-gans,  the  parts  which  perform  the 
offices  mentioned. 

*  Pet'-i-ole,  the  foot-stalk  of  a  leaf. 

*  Dah'-lia  (dahl'-yah). 

8  Re-pbo-i>u€'-tion,  the  act  of  producing 
anew. 

7  NC-TKi-MENT,  food  \  that  which  nourishes. 

8  Lus'-ciotrs  (lush'-us),  delicious. 

9  €o-kot/-l,a,  the  flower-leaves. 

10  Es-sen'-tial,   necessary ;    those    •which 
constitute  the  flower.    ' 


u  Pre-»ent',  offer  to  the  eye. 

12  -Col'-um-bTnb. 

13  Pee'-i-anth;  it  means,  "about  the  flow- 
er." 

1*  Dis-po.te',  cause  or  occasion. 

15  R0'-Di-MENT8,  the  beginnings ;  germs. 

16  Ex-PANi)tB',  opens. 

17  An'-nC-als,   plants  that  live   but   one 
summer. 

18  Bi-bn'-ni-als,  that  continue  two  years. 

19  Pee-en'-ni-als,  that  continue  more  than 
two  years. 

20  Ex  hale',  send  forth ;  emit. 


LESSON  xvm. 

HYMN  TO  THE  FLOWERS. 
1 .  Ye  bright  mosaics'  !^  that  with  storied^  beauty 
The  floor  of  Nature's  temple  tesselate',^ 
What  numerous  emblems  of  instructive  duty 
Your  forms  create^ ! 


222 


WILLSON'S   FOTJETH   READER. 


Part  IIT. 


2.  'Neath  cloistered'^  boughs,  each  floral  bell  that  swingeth 

And  tolls  its  perfume  on  the  passing  air', 
Makes  Sabbath  in  the  fields\  and  ever  ringeth 
A  call  to  prayer^ ; 

3.  Not  to  the  domes^  where  crumbling  arch  and  column 

Attest^  the  feebleness  of  mortal  hand', 
But  to  that  fane,'''  most  catholic^  and  solemn. 
Which  God  hath  planned^ ; 

4.  To  that  cathedral,^  boundless  as  our  wonder,      * 

Whose  quenchless  lamps  the  sun  and  moon  supply\ 
Its  choir^o  the  windf^  and  waves\  its  organ  thunder'. 
Its  dome'  the  sky\ 

5.  There,  as  in  solitude  and  shade  I  wander 

Through  the  green  aisles,^i  or,  stretched  upon  the  sod, 
Awed  by  the  silence,  reverently  ponder^- 
The  ways  of  God' — 

6.  Your  voiceless  lips,  O  flowers !  are  living  preachers^ 

Each  cup  a  pulpit'',  and  each  leaf  a  book\ 
Supplying  to  my  fancy  numerous  teachers 
Fr^n  loneliest  nook.^^ 

V.  Floral  apostles'  I^*  tnat  in  dewy  splendor 

"Weep  without  woe,  and  blush  without  a  crime','' 
O  may  I  deeply  learn,  and  ne'er  surrender, 
Your  lore^**^  sublime. 

8.  Were  I,  O  God' !  in  churchless  lands  remaining', 
Far  from  all  voice  of  teachers  or  divines', 
My  soul  would  find,  in  flowers  of  thy  ordaining'. 
Priests,  sermons,  shrines\ 

Horace  Smith. 


1  Mo-sa'-ics,  a  collection  of  little  pieces  of 
glass,  marble,  etc.,  of  various  colors,  join- 
ed together  so  as  to  represent  the  colors 
of  painting.  The  flowers  are  here  called 
w.osav8. 

2  "  Sto'-ried  beau'-ty"  (std'-rid),  a  beauty 
that  speaks  ;  furnished  with  stories. 

3  Tes'-bkl-ate,  cover  with  a  mosaic  work 
of  flowers. 

♦  €loi8'-tebei>i  pertaining  to  a  monastery; 
secluded. 

5  I^oMES,  cathedrals  ;  places  of  worship. 

*  .\t-tkkt',  show;  jirove;  make  plain. 


7  Fane,  a  temple ;  a  place  of  worship. 

9  €ATu'-o-ufi,   liberal ;    designed  to  em. 

brace  all ;  not  bigoted. 
9  Ca-txie'-dral,  a  grand  church  or  placn 

of  worship. 

10  €noiR  (quire),  a  collection  of  singers  in 
a  church. 

11  ATbles   (lies),  walks  or  passages  in  a 
church. 

12  I'oN'-DER,  think  of;  reflect  upon. 

13  NoQK,  a  corner. 

1*  A-po8'-TLE8  (a-pos'-ls),  preachers. 
"^  Tj<>ie.  learning;  lessons;  his>truotion. 


1st  Div.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OR   BOTANY.  223 


LESSON  XIX. 

VEGETABLE  REFRODVCTIOIS^  Continued. 

STAMENS,  PISTIL,   FRUIT,   AND   SEEDS. 

1.  The  stamens  are  situated,  in  a  complete  flower,  next 
within  the  corolla.     A  perfect  stamen  consists  of  two  parts, 
anther  and  filament.     The  former  is  analogous^  to  the  blade 
of  a  leaf,  and  the  latter  to  the  stem.     In  ^.    .^ 
some  cases  stamens  are  changed  mto  pet-    .  J[(K  a  1 1  /?  «, 
als  by  cultivation,  as  is  seen  when  what  are  |  wl]  jll|  J  i 
called  single  flowers  become  double.    The     W  w  w  w  ^Jmens! 
common  white  pond-lily  affords  a  srood  il-   Gradual  change  of  sta- 

.       o       n    1  1  n  •  ™^^^  ^°*<^  Leaves. 

lustration^  oi  the  change  oi  stamens  mto 

petals.    ThQ  same  may  be  traced  in  double  roses,  buttercups, 

and  most  double  flowers. 

2.  The  top  of  the  stamen,  called  the  anther,  is  almost  al- 
ways yellow,  and  contains  a  yellow  powder,  called  pollen, 
which,  falling  upon  the  pistil,  presently  to  be  described, 
causes  the  development^  of  the  germs  and  the  formation  of 
the  seed.  When  the  stamens  and  the  pistil  grow  on  different 
plants,  each  forming  only  half  of  a  perfect  flower,  it  is  neces- 
sary that  the  plants  should  grow  near  each  other,  so  that  the 
pollen,  wafted  by  the  wind,  may  reach  the  other  half  of  the 
flower,  or  no  seed  will  be  formed. 

3.  The  PISTIL  occupies  the  centre  of  the  flower,  being  sur- 
rounded by  the  stamens  and  petals.  Its  parts  are  three, 
ovary,  style,  and  stigma.  The  ovary  occupies  the  lower 
part,  and  incloses  a  cavity  in  which  the  germs  of  the  seed 
are  developed,  and  finally  matured  into  fruit.  The  style  is 
usually  in  the  form  of  a  slender  thread  or  column,  tapering 
up  from  the  ovary.  The  stigma,  which  is  the  upper  part  or 
termination  of  the  style,  receives  the  pollen  from  the  anthers, 
and  communicates'*  with  the  germ  through  a  tube  in  the  style. 

4.  The  term  fkuit  is  much  more  extensive  in  its  applica- 
tion, speaking  botanically,  than  in  common  language.  The 
name  is  given  to  the  enlarged  ovary  containing  the  seed,  and 
consists  of  two  parts,  the  seed  and  its  covering.  Fruits,  like 
flowers,  exhibit  a  great  variety  of  forms;  for,  while  some  are 


224  WILLSOn's  fourth  reader.  Part  III. 

soft  and  fleshy,  others  are  hard  and  stone-like,  and  some  are 
dry ;  some  grow  in  irregular  masses,  like  the  blackberry,  and 
others  in  a  multiple^  form,  like  the  mulberry  and  the  pine- 
cone. 

5.  The  SEED  is  the  reservoir^  of  the  most  nutritious  part 
of  the  vegetable,  often  containing  twenty  times,  more  nour- 
ishing material  than  any  other  part  of  the  plant.  As  might 
therefore  be  expected,  a  great  portion  of  the  food  of  man  and 
animals  consists  of  seeds.  The  quantity  of  Indian  com  raised 
annually  in  the  United  States  is  about  six  hundred  million 
bushels,  and  probably  there  is  an  equal  quantity  of  other 
grains.  Besides,  large  quantities  of  seeds  are  raised  for  the 
purpose  of  making  various  oils.  In  fact,  the  farmer  is  main- 
ly engaged  in  collecting  a  practically  useful  herbarium^  with- 
in his  barns  and  granaries ;  and  he  ought,  of  all  men,  to  feel 
an  interest  in  botanical  knowledge. 

6.  The  value  of  agricultural  products  in  the  United  States 
for  the  year  1850  was  estimated  at  one  billion  six  hundred 
million  dollars,  all  of  which  came  out  of  the  earth  or  its  at- 
mosphere in  the  form  of  vegetation.  It  is  true  that  wool, 
live-stock,  milk,  and  butter,  are  included;  but  the  whole 
passed  through  the  laboratory^  of  vegetable  life.  About  five 
hundred  million  dollars  worth  of  the  above  products  was 
composed  of  various  seeds  or  grains.  The  land  cultivated  to 
produce  such  an  enormous  product  was  less  than  one  hund- 
red million  acres. 

7.  The  periods  of  germination®  of  seeds  are  various.  Some, 
as  oats,  rye,  and  wheat,  will  germinate,  under  favorable  cir- 
cumstances, in  a  single  day ;  while  mustard,  turnip,  and  the 
bean  require  three  days.  Lettuce  requires  four  days ;  melon 
and  cucumber  seeds  germinate  in  five  days,  barley  in  seven, 
cabbage  in  ten,  and  parsley  in  fifteen  days.  The  almond  and 
peach  require  a  year;  and  many  seeds  of  trees  do  not  germi- 
nate under  two  years. 

8.  The  mtality'^^  of  seeds  is  wonderful.  It  has  been  re- 
lated, and  extensively  copied,  that  healthy  plants  of  wheat 
have  been  raised  from  grains  found  in  a  mummy  case  not  less 
than  three  thousand  years  old.  A  recent  and  valuable  book 
asserts  that,  "had  the  wheat  crop  been  at  any  time  entirely 


1st  DlV.  OF  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OR   BOTANY.  225 

destroyed,  this  invaluable  grain  would  have  been  restored  to 
us  from  seeds  preserved  for  more  than  three  thousand  years 
in  the  folds  of  an  Egyptian  mummy."  But  Prof.  Asa  Gray, 
an  eminent  American  botanist,  says  "  that  the  asserted  cases 
of  such  germination^  will  not  bear  examination;  and  that 
those  best  qualified  to  judge  utterly  disbelieve  not  only  the 
asserted  fact,  but  also  the  possibility  of  any  such  occurrence." 

9.  At  the  Dublin  meeting  of  the  British  Association,  Dr. 
Steel  stated  that  he  had  planted  many  seeds  obtained  from 
Egyptian  mummies,  but  always  failed  to  obtain  any  indica- 
tions^^  of  their  vitality.^^  But  Dr.  Moore,  of  the  Dublin  Bo- 
tanic Garden,  related  an  instance  in  which  he  had  succeeded 
in  producing  a  new  species  of  leguminous^^  plant  from  the 
seeds  obtained  from  a  vase  discovered  in  an  Egyptian  tomb. 

10.  It  is  not  certain  that  the  seeds  planted  by  Dr.  Moore 
were  as  old  as  he  supposed,  but  it  is  well  known  that  the  seeds 
of  leguminous^2  plants,  such  as  beans  and  peas,  will  retain  their 
vitality  10  about  fifty  years,  and  that  various  seeds  of  grasses 
germinate^  after  a  period  of  eight  years.  Seeds  packed  in 
air-tight  cans  soon  lose  their  vitality.  They  seem  to  keep 
best  wrapped  up  in  brown  paper,  or  other  porous^^  material. 

11.  It  is  often  related  that  strange  plants  spring  up  in  earth 
that  has  been  removed  from  far  below  the  surface  in  digging 
wells.  One  instance  which  has  found  its  way  into  the  books 
is  the  following.  In  Maine,  some  well-diggers  were  sinking 
a  well  at  a  distance  of  forty  miles  from  the  sea;  when  at  the 
depth  of  twenty  feet  they  found  a  stratum^*  of  sand,  similar  to 
that  of  the  sea-beach,  but  unlike  any  known  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  well. 

12.  The  sand  was  scattered  about  on  the  soil,  and  in  a  year 
or  two  a  great  number  of  small  trees  appeared  where  the 
sand  had  been  strewn.^^  The  trees  were  difierent  from  any 
growing  in  the  neighborhood,  but  like  trees  growing  on  the 
sea-shore.  It  was  supposed  that  these  trees,  known  as  the 
beach  plum,  must  have  sprung  up  from  seeds  which  were  in 
the  stratum^*  of  sea-sand,  and  had  remained  dormant^^  till 
brought  to  the  surface. 

13.  At  a  meeting  of  the  British  Association,  Dr.  Cleghom 
stated  that  after  the  burning  or  clearing  of  a  forest  in  India, 

K2 


226  WILLSON'S  FOURTH  READER.  Part  III. 

invariably  there  sprung  np  a  new  set  of  plants,  before  un- 
known in  that  locality.  It  is  well  known,  also,  that  in  many 
parts  of  this  country,  when  recent  forest  clearings  are  burned 
over,  there  soon  springs  up  a  peculiar  grass  not  previously 
found  in  the  vicinity.  How  came  the  seeds  there?  where 
did  they  dwell  before  the  clearing  ?  That  the  embryo^'  plant 
should  survive  so  long  as  well-authenticated  facts  establish,  is 
truly  wonderful,  though  perhaps  it  is  no  more  wonderful  than 
that  it  should  exist  at  all.  The  following  lines  beautifully  ex- 
press the  mysteries  of  seed  life. 

14.  "Mark  our  ways,  how  noiseless 

All,  and  sweetly  voiceless, 
Though  the  March  winds  pipe^^  to  make  our  passage  clear; 

Not  a  whisper  tells 

Where  our  small  seed  dwells, 
Nor  is  known  the  moment  green  when  our  tips  appear. 

We  thread  the  earth  in  silence. 

In  silence  build  our  bowers, 
And  leaf  by  leaf  in  silence  show,  till  we  laugh  atop  sweet  flowers." 

15.  The  same  writer,  in  comparing  flowers  with  fables^ 
which  are  instructive  and,  amusing  stories,  gives  the  prefer- 
ence to  the  former,  as  they  are  not  only  more  true,  and  equal- 
ly loved,  but  they  spring  up  by  every  old  pathway,  and  are 
"  marvels  sweet  forever." 

"O!  true  things  are  fables,  ^ 

Fit  for  sagest  tables. 
And  the  flowers  are  true  things,  yet  no  fables  they ; 

Fables  were  not  more 

Bright,  nor  loved  of  yore ; 
Yet  they  grew  not,  like  the  flowers,  by  every  old  pathway ; 

Grossest  hand  can  test  us. 

Fools  may  prize  us  never, 
Yet  we  rise,  and  rise,  and  rise — marvels  sweet  forever." 

Leigh  IIcnt. 

9  6eb-mi-nI'-tion,  the  act  of  sprouting. 

10  Vi-tal'-i-ty,  power  of  maintaining  life. 

11  In-di-€a'-tions,  signs ;  tokens. 

12  Le-gO'-mi-notjs,  pod-bearing. 

13  P0'-ROU8,  loose  ;  open ;   having  pores  or 
small  openings. 

1*  Stra'-tum,  a  thin  layer. 

1*  Strewn  (pronounced  strr^n). 

16  D6r'-mant,  in  a  sleeping  stata 

1''  ftM'-BRY-o,  pertaining  to  tlic  rudimc';i3 

or  beginnings  of  any  thing. 
18  PTpk,  whistle. 


1  A-NAt,'-o-GOU8,  similar  to  ;  like. 

2  Il-lu8-tba'-tion,  explanation. 

3  De-vei.'-op-ment,    opening;    unfolding; 
growth. 

*  '■'•OoM-MC'-Ni-CATESwiTn,"  has  the  mcans 

of  passing  to. 
6  "  MCl'-ti-ple  form,"  in  series  of  uniform 

numbers. 
6  Rf.»-eb-voir',  store-honse ;  receptacle, 
">  IIer-ha'-bi-um,  a  collection  of  dried  plants. 
8  Lab'-o-ra-to-ey,  a  workihop;   place  for 

chemical  operations. 


IstDlV.OF.  .VEGETABLE   PHYSIOLOGY,  OB   BOTAITT. 


227 


LESSON"  XX. 


FLOWERS,  THE  STARS  OF  EARTH. 

1.  Spake  full  well,  in  language  quaint^  and  olden, 

One  who  dwell eth  by  the  castled  Rhine, 
When  he  called  the  flowers',  so  blue  and  golden' 
Stars\  that  in  earth's  firmament  do  shine. 

2.  Stars  they  are,  wherein  we  read  our  history, 

As  astrologers^  and  seers^  of  eld  ;* 
Yet  not  wrapped  about  with  awful  mystery, 
Like  the  burning  stars  which  they  beheld'. 

3.  Wondrous  truths,  and  manifold^  as  wondrous, 

God  hath  written  in  those  stars  above ; 
But  not  less  in  the  bright  flowerets^  under  us 
Stands  the  revelation"^  of  his  love. 

4.  Bright  and  glorious  is  that  revelation, 

Writ  all  over  this  great  world  of  ours — 
Making  evident  our  own  creation. 

In  these  stars  of  earth,  these  golden  flowers. 


228 


WILLSON  8   FOURTH   READER. 


Part  III. 


-  5.  Every  where  about  us  are  they  glowing- 
Some,  like  stars,  to  tell  us  spring  is  born ; 
Others,  their  blue  eyes  with  tears  o'erflowing, 
Stand,  like  Ruth,  amid  the  golden  com. 

6.  Not  alone  in  Spring's  armoriaF  bearing,^ 

And  in  Summer's  green-emblazoned^ ^  field, 
But  in  arms  of  brave  old  Autumn's  wearing. 
In  the  centre  of  his  brazen  shield ; 

7.  Not  alone  in  meadows  and  green  alleys, 

On  the  mountain  top,  and  by  the  brink 
Of  sequestered^^  pools  in  woodland  valleys. 
Where  the  slaves  of  Nature  stoop  to  drink ; 

8.  Not  alone  in  her  vast  dome  of  glory. 

Not  on  graves  of  bird  and  beast  alone, 
But  in  old  cathedrals,  high  and  hoary. 
On  the  tombs  of  heroes  carved  in  stone ; 

9.  In  the  cottage  of  the  rudest  peasant' ; 

In  ancestral  homes,  whose  crumbling  towers, 
Speaking  of  the  Past  unto  the  Present, 
Tell  us  of  the  ancient  Games  of  Flowers. 

10.  In  all  places,  then,  and  in  all  seasons. 

Flowers  expand  their  light  and  soul-like  wings, 
Teaching  us,  by  most  persuasive  reasons, 
How  akini2  ij^qj  ^re  to  human  things. 

11.  And  with  childlike,  credulous^^  afioction. 

We  behold  their  tender  buds  expand — 

Emblems^'*  of  our  own  great  resurrection. 

Emblems  of  the  bright  and  better  land. 


Qc-Ajwr,  odd ;  strange. 
As-TBoiZ-o-GEB,  one  who  pretends  to  fore- 
tell events  by  the  appearances  of  the  stars. 
Skeks,  prophets. 
Eld,  olden  times. 

Man'-i-folt),  various ;  many  in  number. 
Fi.ow'-EB-ET8,  little  flowers. 
Rev-k-la'-tion,  the  act  of  making  kno^vn 
to  otlipi-a  what  was  nnkncwn  to  thom. 


Longfellow. 

8  Ab-m5'-ri-al,  belonging  to  or  having  the 
appearance  of  armor. 

9  Bkak'-ings,  the  figures  on  armor,  or  on 
coats  of  amis. 

»"  Km-i5laz'-oned,  adorned  with  armorial 
figures. 

11  Se-qdes'-tere©,  sechided  ;  retired. 

12  A -kin',  like;  related. 

13  €REr)'-rr-LOU8,  easily  believing. 

'^  Fm'-hlemu,  piotnrea'er  roprcsontatioiw. 


1st  Dl#OF  .  .  VEGETABLE  PHYSIOLOGY,  OB  BOTAITT.  229 


LESSON  XX^i. 
DISPERSION  OF  SEEDS. 

1.  There  are  many  curious  provisions^  for  the  dispersion 
of  seeds,  the  evident  design  of  which  is  that  no  portion  of 
the  earth  shall  be  destitute  of  vegetation.  Many  seeds,  Uke 
those  of  the  maple,  are  winged^  or  furnished  with  lateral^  ex- 
pansions^  to  catch  the  wind,  and  thus 
are  blown  to  places  remote*  from  where 
^they  grew.  The  small  seed  of  the  dan- 
delion is  carried  by  a  long 
and  light  stem,  at  one  end 
of  which  numerous  feathery 
fibres  spread  out  like  an  um- 
brella. The  down  of  this- 
tles, which  floats  so  easily  in  the  air,  carries  the 
seed  to  great  distances. 

2.  Some  seeds,  having  a  shelly  or  an  oily  cov- 
ering that  can  resist  the  action  of  water,  are  borne  by  the 
waves  to  the  distant  islands  of  the  sea.  Many  seeds  are  de- 
stroyed, but  the  number  produced  is  beyond  conjecture.  A 
single  stalk  of  tobacco  may  produce  one  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  seeds ;  and  an  elm-tree  has  been  estimated  to  have 
more  than  six  hundred  thousand. 

3.  There  is,  apparently,  a  prodigahty^  of  flowers  and  seeds. 
It  is  believed  by  physiologists^  th^at  those  parts  of  the  fungi"^ 
or  flowerless  plants,  such  as  rust,  mildew,  and  mushrooms, 
which  answer  to  the  seeds  of  other  plants,  are  universally  dif- 
fused through  the  atmosphere,  ready  to  vegetate^  whenever 
an  opportunity  presents  itself,  and  that  every  fungus  plant 
may  produce  not  less  than  ten  milHon  germs.  The  vast  ex- 
tent of  vegetable  life,  and  the  care  which  Nature  has  taken 
for  its  preservation,  are  thus  happily  described  by  an  English 
poet: 

4.  "  Then  spring  the  living  herbs,  profusely  wild, 
O'er  all  the  deep  green  earth,  beyond  the  power 
Of  botanist  to  number  up  their  tribes. 
Whether  ho  steals  along  the  lonely  dale," 


230 


WTLLSON'S   FOURTH    READER. 


Irt  ni. 


In  silent  search,  or  through  the  forest,  rank 
With  what  the  dull  incurious^"  weeds  account/^ 
Bursts  his  blind  jgaj ;  or  climbs  the  mountain  rock, 
Fired^^  by  the  nodding  verdure  of  its  brow. 
6.  With  such  a  liberal  hand  has  Nature  flung 

Their  seeds  abroad,  blown  them  about  in  winds, 
Innumerous^^  mixed  them  with  the  nursing  mould. 
The  moistening  current,  and  prolific^*  rain. 
The  kind,  impartial  care 
Of  Nature  naught  disdains ;  thoughtful  to  feed 
Her  lowest  sons,  and  clothe  the  coming  year, 
^    From  field  to  field,  the  feathered  seeds  she  wings." 

Thomson. 

6.  Birds,  beasts,  and  insects  aid  in  the  dispersion  of  seeds, 
so  that  whether  a  Delos^^  rises  in  a  night  from  beneath  the 
waters,  or  the  coral  terraces^^  "spring  up  to  the  crested 
wave,"  it  is  but  a  short  time  before 

"The  tuif  looks  green  where  the  breakers"  rolled," 
and  the  recent  island  is  fitted  for  the  habitation  of  man. 

7.  "  Seeds  to  our  eyes  invisible,  will  find 

On  the  rude  rock  the  bed  that  fits  their  kind. 

There  in  the  rugged  soil  they  safely  dwell, 

Till  showers  and  snows  the  subtle^^  atoms  swell, 

And  spread  th'  enduring  foliage ;  then  we  trace 

The  freckled  flower  upon  the  flinty  base ; 

These  all  increase,  till  in  unnoted  years 

The  stony  tower  as  gray  with  age  appears, 

With  coats  of  vegetation  thinly  spread. 

Coat  above  coat,  the  living  on  the  dead. 

These  then  dissolve  to  dust,  and  make  a  way 

For  bolder  foliage,  nursed  by  their  decay : 

The  long-enduring  ferns  in  time  will  all 

Die  and  depose  their  dust  upon  the  wall ; 

Where  the  wing'd  seed  may  rest,  till  many  a  flower 

Shows  Flora's^ ^  triumph  o'er  the  falling  tower." 


1  Peo-vi"-8ions,  thinga  provided. 

a  l^AT'-EE-Ai.,  proceeding  from  the  side,  as 

the  wing8  of  the  maple  seed. 
3  1;x-pan'-sion»,  parts  that  spread  out. 

*  Ue-mote',  distant. 

*  I'kod-i-gal'-i-ty,  needless  abundance. 

6  I'iiT$-i-(5i/-0-(;i8T,  one  acquainted  with 
the  science  of  plants  and  animals. 

'  FCn'-gi,  the  plural  of  fin'-gus. 

8  Vku'-e-tate,  to  sprout ;  grow  like  a  plant 

s  Dale,  a  vale  ;  place  between  hills. 

10  Tn-€C'-ri-ocs,  inattentive;  not  having 
curiosity. 


1 1  A€-€OtiNT',  think  ;  consider ;  regard. 
'2  FTb'ei),  animated  ;  encouraged. 
13  In-nu'-mee-ou8,  too  many  to  be  counted. 
1*  Pko-lTf'-io,  fertilizing ;  causing  to  grow. 
1*  Dk-i.os',  an   island  that  was   fabled  to 

have  arisen  unexpectedly  out  of  the  sea. 
1^  "  €or'-al,  tee'-ka-oe8,"  islands  built  by 

coral  insects. 

17  Bre.\k'-eb»,  waves  broken  by  rocks  or 
shoals. 

18  SuiJT'-LE  (snt'tl),  very  small ;  difficult  of 
detection. 

19  FlO'-ra,  the  goddess  of  floTrrrs. 


Pakt  IV. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


231 


PART  IV. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 
LESSON  I. 


BETTER  THAN  DIAMONDS. 

1.  I  WAS  standing  in  the  broad,  crowded  street  of  a  large 
city.  It  was  a  cold  winter's  day.  There  had  been  rain ;  and 
although  the  sun  had  been  shining  brightly,  yet  the  long  ici- 
cles hung  from  the  eaves  of  the  houses,  and  the  wheels  rum- 
bled loudly,  as  they  passed  over  the  ground.  There  was  a 
clear,  bright  look,  and  a  cold,  bracing  feeling  in  the  air,  and 
a  keen  northwest  wind,  which  quickened  every  step. 

2.  Just  then  a  little  child  came  running  along — a  poor,  ill- 
clad^  child ;  her  clothes  w^ere  scant^  and  threadbare ;  she  had 
no  cloak  and  no  shawl,  and  her  little  bare  feet  looked  red  and 
suffering.  She  could  not  have  been  more  than  eight  years 
old.  She  carried  a  bundle  in  her  hand.  Poor  little  shiver- 
ing child !     I  pitied  her.    As  she  passed  me  her  foot  slipped, 


232  WILLSON's  fourth  KEADER.  Part  IY. 

and  she  fell  with  a  cry  of  pain ;  but  she  held  the  bundle  tight- 
ly in  her  hand,  and,  jumping  up,  although  she  limped  sadly, 
endeavored  to  run  as  before. 

3.  "  Stop !  little  girl,  stop !"  said  a  sweet  voice ;  and  a 
beautiful  woman,  wrapped  in  a  huge  shawl  and  with  furs 
around  her,  came  out  of  a  jeweler's  store  close  by.  "  Poor 
little  child,"  she  said,  "  are  you  hurt'  ?  Sit  down  on  this  step 
and  tell  me." 

How  I  loved  her,  and  how  beautiful  she  looked ! 

"  Oh,  I  can  not,"  said  the  little  child,  "  I  can  not  wait — I 
am  in  such  a  hurry.  I  have  been  to  the  shoemaker's,  and 
mother  must  finish  this  work  to-night,  or  she  will  never  get 
any  more  shoes  to  bind." 

4.  "To-night'?"  said  the  beautiful  woman,  "to-night'?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child,  for  the  stranger's  kind  manner  had 
made  her  bold,  "  yes,  for  the  great  ball  to-night ;  and  these 
satin  slippers  must  be  spangled ;  and — " 

The  beautiful  woman  took  the  bundle  from  the  child's 
hand  and  unrolled  it.  You  do  not  know  why  her  face  flush- 
ed, and  then  turned  pale ;  but  I,  yes  I,  looked  into  the  bun- 
dle, and  on  the  inside  of  a  slipper  I  saw  a  name — a  lady's 
name  written,  but  I  shall  not  tell  it; 

"  And  where  does  your  mother  live,  little  girl  ?" 

5.  So  the  child  told  her  where ;  and  then  she  told  her  that 
her  father  was  dead,  and  that  her  little  brother  was  sick,  and 
that  her  mother  bound  shoes  that  they  might  have  bread ; 
but  that  sometimes  they  were  very  cold,  and  that  her  moth- 
er sometimes  cried  because  she  had  no  money  to  buy  milk 
for  her  little  brother.  And  then  I  saw  that  the  lady's  eyes 
were  full  of  tears ;  and  she  rolled  up  the  bundle  quickly,  and 
gave  it  back  to  the  Httle  girl ;  and,  turning  away,  went  back 
into  the  store  from  which  she  had  just  come  out.  As  she 
went  away  I  saw  the  glitter  of  a  diamond  pin.  Presently 
she  came  back,  and,  stepping  into  a  handsome  carriage,  rolled 
off.  The  little  girl  looked  after  her  a  moment,  and  then,  with 
her  little  bare  feet  colder  than  they  were  before,  ran  quick- 
ly away. 

6.  I  followed  the  little  girl  to  a  narrow  damp  street,  and 
into  a  small  dark  room ;  I  there  saw  her  mother — her  sad, 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  233 

faded  mother,'  but  with  a  face  so  sweet,  so  patient — hushing 
and  soothing  a  sick  baby.  And  the  baby  slept,  and  the 
mother  laid  it  on  her  lap ;  and  the  bundle  was  unrolled,  and 
a  dim  candle  helped  her  with  her  work ;  for  though  it  was 
not  night,  yet  her  room  was  very  dark.  Then,  after  a  while, 
she  kissed  her  little  girl,  and  bade  her  warm  her  poor  frozen 
feet  over  the  scanty  fire  in  the  grate,  and  gave  her  a  little 
piece  of  bread,  for  she  had  no  more ;  and  then  she  heard  her 
say  her  evening  prayer,  and  folded  her  tenderly  to  her  bosom, 
blessed  her,  and  told  her  that  the  angels  would  take  care  of 
her. 

V.  And  the  little  child  slept  and  dreamed — oh !  such  pleas- 
ant dreams  —  of  warm  stockings  and  new  shoes;  but  the 
mother  sewed  alone,  and  as  the  bright  spangles  glittered  on 
the  satin  slippers,  came  there  no  repining^  into  the  heart  ? 
When  she  thought  of  her  child's  bare,  cold  feet,  and  of  the 
scant  morsel  of  dry  bread,  that  had  not  satisfied  her  hunger, 
came  there  visions  of  a  bright  room  and  gorgeous*  clothing, 
and  a  table  loaded  with  all  that  was  good,  a  little  portion  of 
which  spared  to  her  would  give  warmth  and  comfort  to  her 
humble  dwelling  ? 

8.  If  such  thoughts  came,  and  -others,  o^lPpleasant  cottage, 
and  of  one  who  had  dearly  loved  her,  and  whose  strong  arm 
had  kept  want  and  trouble  from  her  and  her  babes,  but  w^ho 
could  never  come  back — if  these  thoughts  did  come  repining- 
ly,  there  also  came  another;  and  the  widow's  hands  were 
clasped,  and  her  head  bowed  low  in  deep  contrition,^  as  I 
heard  her  say,  "  Father,  forgive  me,  for  thou  doest  all  things 
well,  and  I  will  trust  to  thee." 

9.  Just  then  the  door  opened  softly,  and  some  one  entered. 
Was  it  an  angel?  Her  dress  was  spotless  white,  and  she 
moved  with  a  noiseless  step.  She  went  to  the  bed  where  the 
sleeping  child  lay,  and  covered  it  with  soft,  warm  blankets. 
Then  presently  a  fire  sparkled  and  blazed  there,  such  as  the 
little  grate  had  never  known  before.  Then  a  huge  loaf  was 
placed  upon  the  table,  and  fresh  milk  for  the  sick  babe. 

10.  Then  she  passed  gently  before  the  mother,  and,  draw- 
ing the  unfinished  slipper  from  her  hand,  placed  there  a  purse 
of  gold,  and  said,  in  a  voice  like  music,  "  Bless  thy  God,  who 


234  willson's  fourth  reader.  Pabt  IV. 

is  the  God  of  the  fatherless  and  the  widow !"  and  she  was 
gone,  only  as  she  went  out  I  heard  her  say,  "Better  than 
diamonds — better  than  diamonds !"  Whom  could  she  mean  ? 
I  looked  at  the  mother.  With  dasped  hands  and  streaming 
eyes  she  blessed  her  God,  who  had  sent  an  angel  to  comfort 
her. 

11.  So  I  went  too;  and  I  went  to  a  bright  room,  where 
were  music  and  dancing,  and  sweet  flowers ;  and  I  saw  the 
young,  happy  faces  of  those  who  were  there,  and  beautiful 
dresses  sparkling  with  jewels ;  but  none  that  I  knew,  until 
one  passed  me  whose  dress  was  of  simple  white,  with  only  a 
rose-bud  on  her  bosom,  and  whose  voice  was  like  the  sweet 
sound  of  a  silver  lute.^  No  spangled  slipper  was  on  her  foot ; 
but  she  moved  as  one  that  treadeth  upon  the  air,  and  the  di- 
vine beauty  of  holiness  had  so  glorified  her  face,  that  I  felt, 
as  I  gazed  upon  her,  that  ehe  was  almost  an  angel  of  God. 

Anoni/mous. 


1  lLL-eLA.D,  poorly  clad. 

2  Scant,  too  small, 

3  IJe-pIn'-ing,  complaining ;  murmuring. 


*  Gor'-';eotjs,  showy;  splendid. 

5  €oN-TBi'-TiON,  peuitonce ;  sorrow. 

6  LCte,  an  instrument  of  music  with  strings 


^       LESSON  n. 

ABRAM  AND  ZIMRI. 

1.  Abeam  and  Zimri  owned  a  field  together — 
A  level  field  hid  in  a  happy  vale. 

They  plowed  it  with  one  plow,  and  in  the  6|pring 
Sowed,  walking  side  by  side,  the  fruitful  seed. 
In  harvest,  when  the  glad  earth  smiled  with  grain, 
Each  carried  to  his  home  one  half  the  sheaves. 
And  stored  them  with  much  labor  in  his  barns. 
Now  Abram  had  a  wife  and  seven  sons. 
But  Zimri  dwelt  alone  within  his  house. 

2.  One  night,  before  the  sheaves  were  gathered  in. 
As  Zimri  lay  upon  his  lonely  bed. 

And  counted  in  his  mind  his  little  gains, 
He  thought  upon  his  brother  Abram's  lot, 
And  said,  "  I  dwell  alone  within  my  house, 
But  Abram  hath  a  wife  and  seven  sons, 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  235 

And  yet  we  share  the  harvest  sheaves  alike : 
He  surely  needeth  more  for  life  than  I ; 
I  will  arise,  and  gird  myself,  and  go 
Down  to  the  field,  and  add  to  his  from  mine." 

3.  So  he  arose,  and  girded  up  his  loins, 
And  went  out  softly  to  the  level  field. 

The  moon  shone  out  from  dusky  bars  of  clouds, 
The  trees  stood  black  against  the  cold  blue  ^ky. 
The  branches  waved,  and  whispered  in  the  wind. 
So  Zimri,  guided  by  the  shifting  light. 
Went  down  the  naountain  path,  and  found  the  field. 
Took  from  his  store  of  sheaves  a  generous  third. 
And  bore  them  gladly  to  his  brother's  heap, 
And  then  went  back  to  sleep  and  happy  dreams. 

4.  Now,  that  same  night,  as  Abram  lay  in  bed. 
Thinking  upon  his  blissful  state  in  life. 

He  thought  upon  his  brother  Zimri's  lot. 

And  said,  "  He  dwells  within  his  house  alone. 

He  goeth  forth  to  toil  with  few  to  help. 

He  goeth  home  at  night  to  a-xjold  house. 

And  hath  few  other  friends  but  me  and  mine" 

(For  these  two  tilled  the  happy  vale  alone) ; 

"  While  I,  whom  Heaven  hath  very  greatly  blessed. 

Dwell  happy  with  my  wife  and  seven  sons. 

Who  aid  me  in  my  toil,  and  make  it  light. 

And  yet  we  share  the  harvest  sheaves  alike. 

This  surely  is  not  pleasing  unto  God. 

I  will  arise,  and  gird  myself,  and  go 

Out  to  the  field,  and  borrow  from  my  store. 

And  add  unto  my  brother  Zimri's  pile." 

6.  So  he  arose,  and  girded  up  his  loins. 
And  went  down  softly  to  the  level  field. 
The  moon  shone  out  from  silver  bars  of  clouds. 
The  trees  stood  black  against  the  starry  sky. 
The  dark  leaves  waved  and  whispered  in  the  breeze. 
So  Abram,  guided  by  the  doubtful  light. 
Passed  down  the  mountain  path,  and  found  the  field, 


236  WILLSON's  fourth  reader.  Paet  IV. 

Took  from  his  store  of  sheaves  a  generous  third, 
And  added  them  unto  his  brother's  heap ; 
Then  he  went  back  to  sleep  and  happy  dreams. 

6.  So  the  next  morning  with  the  early  sun 
The  brothers  rose,  and  went  out  to  their  toil. 
And  when  they  came  to  see  the  heavy  sheaves, 
Each  wondered  in  his  heart  to  find  his  heap, 
Though  he  had  given  a  third,  was  still  the  same. 

V.  Now  the  next  night  went  Zimri  to  the  field, 
Took  from  his  store  of  sheaves  S  generous  share. 
And  placed  them  on  his  brother  Abram's  heap, 
And  then  lay  down  behind  his  pile  to  watch. 
The  moon  looked  out  from  bars  of  silvery  cloud, 
The  cedars  stood  up  black  against  the  sky, 
The  olive-branches  whispered  in  the  wind. 

8.  Then  Abram  came  down  softly  from  his  home, 
And,  looking  to  the  left  and  right,  went  on. 
Took  from  his  ample  store  a  generous  third. 
And  laid  it  on  his  brother  Zimri's  pile. 
Then  Zimri  rose,  and  caught  him  in  his  arms. 
And  wept  upon  his  neck,  and  kissed  his  cheek ; 
And  Abram  saw  the  whole,  and  could  not  speak ; 
Neither  could  Zimri,  for  their  hearts  were  full. 

Clarence  Cook 


LESSON  III. 

SORROW  FOR  THE  DEAD. 

1.  The  sorrow  for  the  dead  is  the  only  sorrow  from  which 
we  refuse  to  be  divorced.^  Every  other  wound  we  seek  to 
heal,  every  other  afiiiction  to  forget ;  but  this  wound  we  con- 
sider it  a  duty  to  keep  open ;  this  afiiiction  we  cherish  and 
brood  over  in  solitude. 

2.  Where  is  the  mother  who  would  willingly  forget  the 
infant  that  perished  like  a  blossom  from  her  arms,  though 
every  recollection  is  a  pang^  ?    Where  is  the  child  that  would 


Pakt  IV.  MISCELLAl^^EOUS.  237 

willingly  forget  the  most  tender  of  parents,  though  to  re- 
member be  but  to  lament^  ?  Who,  even  in  the  hour  of  agony, 
would  forget  the  friend  over  whom  he  mourns^  ?  Who,  even 
when  the  tomb  is  closing  upon  the  remains  of  her  he  most 
loved,  when  he  feels  his  heart,  as  it  were,  crushed  in  the  clos- 
ing of  its  portal,  would  accept  of  consolation  that  must  be 
bought  by  forgetfulness^  ? 

3.  No ;  the  love  which  survives  the  tomb  is  one  of  the  no- 
blest attributes^  of  the  soul.  If  it  has  its  woes',  it  has  like- 
wise its  delights^ ;  and  when  the  overwhelming  burst  of  grief 
is  calmed  into  the  gentle  tear  of  recollection',  when  the  sud- 
den anguish  and  the  convulsive  agony  over  the  present  ruins 
of  all  that  we  most  loved  is  softened  away  into  pensive  med- 
itation on  all  that  it  was  in  the  days  of  its  loveliness',  who 
would  root  out  such  a  sorrow  from  the  heart^  ? 

4.  Though  it  may  sometimes  throw  a  passing  cloud  over 
the  bright  hour-  of  gayety,  or  spread  a  deeper  sadness  over 
the  hour  of  gloom',  yet  who  would  exchange  it  even  for  the 
song  of  pleasure  or  the  burst  of  revelry^  ?  No ;  there  is  a 
voice  from  the  tomb  sweeter  than  son^.  There  is  a  remem- 
brance of  the  dead,  to  which  we  turn  even  from  the  charms 
of  the  living. 

5.  O,  the  grave !  the  grave !  It  buries  every  error\  cov- 
ers every  defect\  extinguishes  every  resentment\  From  its 
peaceful  bosom  spring  none  but  fond  regrets  and  tender  rec- 
ollections. Who  can  look  do\\ai  upon  the  grave  even  of  an 
enemy,  and  not  feel  a  compunctious^  throb  that  he  should 
ever  have  warred  with  the  poor  handful  of  earth  that  lies 
mouldering  before  him^  ? 

6.  But  the  grave  of  those  we  loved — what  a  place  for  med- 
itation !  There  it  is  that  we  call  up  in  long  review  the  whole 
history  of  virtue  and  gentleness,  and  the  thousand  endear- 
ments'* lavished^  upon  us  almost  unheeded  in  the  daily  inter- 
course of  intimacy ;  there  it  is  that  we  dwell  upon  the  ten- 
derness, the  solemn,  awful  tenderness  of  the  parting  scene — 
the  bed  of  death,  with  all  its  stifled  griefs,  its  noiseless  at- 
tendants, its  mute,  watchful  assiduities — the  last  testimonies 
of  expiring  love  —  the  feeble,  fluttering,  thrilling — O  how 
thrilling  ! — pressure  of  the  hand — the  last  fond  look  of  the 


238 


WILLSON'S   FOUETH  EEADEE. 


Pakt  IV 


glaziog  eye,  turning  upon  us  even  from  the  threshold  of  ex- 
istence— the  faint,  faltering  accents,  struggling  in  death  to 
give  one  more  assurance  of  affection. 

7.  Ay,  go  to  the  grave  of  buried  love,  and  meditate! 
There  settle  the  account  with  thy  conscience  for  every  past 
benefit  unrequited,^  every  past  endearment  unregarded,  of 
that  departed  being  who  can  never — never — never  return  to 
be  soothed  by  thy  contrition ! 

8.  If  thou  art  a  child',  and  hast  ever  added  a  sorrow  to  the 
soul,  or  a  furrow  to  the  silver  brow  of  an  affectionate  parent' ; 
if  thou  art  a  husband,  and  hast  ever  caused  the  fond  bosom 
that  ventured  its  whole  happiness  in  thy  arms  to  doubt  one 
moment  of  thy  kindness  or  thy  truth' ;  if  thou  art  a  friend, 
and  hast  ever  wronged,  in  thought,  or  word,  or  deed,  the 
spirit  that  generously  confided  in  thee' ;  if  thou  art  a  lover, 
and  hast  ever  given  one  unmerited  pang  to  that  true  heart 
which  now  lies  cold  and  still  beneath  thy  feet',  then  be  sure 
that  every  unkind  look\"  every  ungracious  word\  every  un- 
gentle action\  will  come  thronging  back  upon  thy  memory, 
and  knocking  dolefully  at  thy  souV ;  then  be  sure  that  thou 
wilt  lie  down  sorrowing  and  repentant  on  the  grave,  and  ut- 
ter the  unheard  groan,  and  pour  the  unavailing  tear,  more 
deep,  more  bitter,  because  unheard  and  unavailing. 

9.  Then  weave  thy  chaplet"^  of  flowers,  and  strew  the  beau- 
ties of  nature  about  the  grave ;  console  thy  broken  spirit,  if 
thou  canst,  with  these  tender  yet  futile^  tributes  of  regret ; 
but  take  warning  by  the  bitterness  of  this  thy  contrite^  af- 
fliction over  the  dead,  and  henceforth  be  more  faithful  and 
affectionate  in  the  discharge  of  thy  duties  to  the  living. 

Irving. 


1  Di-vor'oet),  separaterl. 

2  At'-tri-butk,  quality;    that   which  be- 
longs to. 

3  €OM-Pimo'-Tioue,   causing   grief  or   re- 
morse. 

*  En-dhak'-ments,  acts  of  affection. 


5  Lav'-isiied,  bestowed  freely. 

s  Un-rb  quit'-ed,  not  repaid ;   not  reconi 

pensed. 
■'  Chap'-lkt,  garland. 

8  Fii'-tTle,  of  no  effect ;  unavailing. 

9  €on'-tbTte,  penitent;  humble. 


Pakt  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  239 


LESSON  IV. 
FOKGIVE  AND  FORGET. 

1.  When  streams  of  unkindness,  as  bitter  as  gall, 

Bubble  up  from  the  heart  to  the  tongue, 
And  meekness  is  writhing  in  torment  and  thrall. 

By  the  hands  of  ingratitude  wrung : 
In  the  heat  of  injustice,  unwept  and  unfair, 

While  the  anguish  is  festering  yet, 
None,  none  but  an  angel  of  God  can  declare 

I  now  can  forgive  and  forget. 

2.  But  if  the  bad  spirit  is  chased  from  the  heart, 

And  the  lips  are  in  penitence  steeped, 
With  the  wrong  so  repented,  the  wrath  will  depart 

Though  scorn  on  injustice  were  heajjed ; 
For  the  best  compensation  is  paid  for  all  ill. 

When  the  cheek  with  contrition  is  wet. 
And  every  one  feels  it  is  possible  still 

At  once  to  forgive  and  forget. 

3.  To  forget  ?     It  is  hard  for  a  man  with  a  mind, 

However  his  heart  may  forgive. 
To  blot  out  all  perils  and  dangers  behind. 

And  but  for  the  future  to  live. 
Then  how  shall  it  be  ?  for,,  at  every  turn. 

Recollection  the  spirit  will  fret, 
And  the  ashes  of  injury  smoulder  and  burn, 

Though  we  strive  to  forgive  and  forget. 

4.  O,  hearken !  my  tongue  shall  the  riddle  unseal, 

And  mind  shall  be  partner  with  heart. 
While  thee  to  thyself  I  bid  conscience  reveal, 

And  show  thee  how  evil  thou  art : 
Remember  thy  follies,  thy  sins,  and  thy  crimes, 

How  vast  is  that  infinite  debt ! 
Yet  mercy  hath  seven  by  seventy  times 

Been  swift  to  forgive  and  forget. 


240  WILLSON's  fourth  EEaDEE.  Part  IV. 

5.  Brood  not  on  insults  or  injuries  old, 

For  thou  art  injurious  too; 
Count  not  the  sum  till  the  total  is  told, 

For  thou  art  unkind  and  untrue ; 
And  if  all  thy  harms  are  forgotten,  forgiven, 

Now  mercy  with  justice  is  met ; 
O,  who  would  not  gladly  take  lessons  from  heaven, 

And  learn  to  forgive  and  forget  ? 

6.  Yes,  yes,  let  a  man,  when  his  enemy  weeps, 

Be  quick  to  receive  him  a  friend ; 
For  thus  on  his  head  in  kindness  he  heaps 

Hot  coals,  to  refine  and  amend ; 
And  hearts  that  are  Christian  more  easily  yearn, 

As  a  nurse  on  her  innocent  pet. 
Over  lips  that,  once  bitter,  to  penitence  turn. 

And  whisper,  forgive  and  forget.  Tcppeb. 


LESSON  Y. 
"CLEON  AND  I." 

1.  Cleom  hath  a  million  acres — ne'er  a  one  have  I ; 
Cleon  dwelleth  in  a  palace — in  a  cottage,  I ; 
Cleon  hath  a  dozen  fortunes — not  a  penny,  I ; 
But  the  poorer  of  the  twain  is  Cleon,  and  not  I. 

2.  Cleon,  true,  possesseth  acres — but  the  landscape,  I ; 
Half  the  charms  to  me  it  yieldeth  money  can  not  buy ; 
Cleon  harbors  sloth  and  dullness — freshening  vigor,  I ; 
He  in  velvet,  I  in  fustian — richer  man  am  I. 

3.  Cleon  is  a  slave  to  grandeur — ^free  as  thought  am  I ; 
Cleon  fees  a  score  of  doctors — need  of  none  have  I. 
Wealth-surrounded,  care-environed,  Cleon  fears  to  die ; 
Death  may  come — he'll  find  me  ready— happier  man  am  I. 

4.  Cleon  sees  no  charms  in  Nature — ^in  a  daisy,  I ; 
Cleon  hears  no  anthems  ringing  in  the  sea  and  sky. 
Nature  sings  to  me  forever — earnest  listener,  I ; 

State  for  state,  with  all  attendants,  who  would  change  ? 
Not  I.  C.  Mack  AY. 


Pabt  IV.  MISCELLAJfEOUS.  241 


lesso:n^  vl 

SPECTACLES,  OR  HELPS  TO  READ. 

1.  A  CEiiTAiN  artist — I've  forgot  his  name — 
Had  got,  for  making  spectacles,  a  fame, 

Or  "  helps  to  read,"  as,  when  they  first  were  sold, 
Was  writ  upon  his  glaring  sign  in  gold ; 
And,  for  all  uses  to  be  had  from  glass. 
His  were  allowed  by  readers  to  surpass. 

2.  There  came  a  man  into  his  shop  one  day — 
"  Are  you  the  spectacle  contriver,  pray'  ?" 
"  Yes,  sir\"  said  he ;  "I  can  in  that  affair 
Contrive  to  please  you,  if  you  want  a  pair'." 

" Can  you'?  pray  do,  then\"     So,  at  first,  he  chose 
To  place  a  you7igish  pair  upon  his  nose ; 
And  book  produced,  to  see  how  they  would  fit : 
Asked  how  he  liked  'em^  ?     "  Like  'em'  ?  not  a  bit\' ' 

3.  "  Then,  sir,  I  fancy,  if  you  please  to  try, 
These  in  my  hand  will  better  suit  your  eye\" 

"  No',  but  they  don't'."     "  Well,  come,  sir,  if  you  please. 

Here  is  another  sort\  we'll  e'en  try  these^ ; 

Still  somewhat  more  they  magnify  the  letter^ ; 

Now,  sir'  ?"     "  Why,  now— I'm  not  a  bit  the  better'." 

"  No'  ?  here,  take  these,  that  magnify  still  more ; 

How  do  they  fit'  ?"     "  Like  all  the  rest  before." 

4.  In  short,  they  tried  a  whole  assortment  through, 
But  all  in  vain,  for  none  of  'em  would  do. 

The  operator,  much  sui-prised  to  find 
So  odd  a  case,  thought,  sure  the  man  is  blind ! 
"  What  sort  of  eyes  can  you  have  got'  ?"  said  he. 
"  Why,  very  good  ones,  friend,  as  you  may  see." 
"  Yes,  I  perceive  the  clearness  of  the  hall — 
Pray,  let  me  ask  you,  can  you  read  at  all'  .^" 
"  No',  you  great  blockhead ;  if  I  could,  what  need 
Of  paying  you  for  any  '  helps  to  read'  V  " 
And  so  he  left  the  maker  in  a  heat. 
Resolved  to  post  him  for  an  arrant  cheat.  Btkom. 

L 


242 


willson's  foueth  keader. 


Part  IV. 


LESSON  VII. 


33*i'.?Z2C-- 


THE  MAY  QUEEN. 

1.  You  must  wake  and  call  me  early,  call  me  early,  mother  dear; 
To-morrow  *11  be  the  happiest  time  of  all  the  glad  New-year ; 
Of  all  the  glad  New -year,  mother,  the  maddest,  merriest  day; 

For  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother,  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May 

2.  There's  many  a  black  black  eye,  they  say,  but  none  so  bright  as  mine ; 
There's  Margaret  and  Mary,  there's  Kate  and  Caroline  : 

But  none  so  fair  as  little  Alice  in  all  the  land  they  say. 

So  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother,  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May. 

3.  I  sleep  so  sound  all  night,  mother,  that  I  shall  never  wake. 
If  you  do  not  call  me  loud  when  the  day  begins  to  break : 

But  I  must  gather  knots  of  flowers,  and  buds  and  garlands  gay. 

For  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother,  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May. 

4.  As  I  came  up  the  valley,  whom  think  ye  should  I  see, 
But  Eobin  leaning  on  the  bridge  beneath  the  hazel-tree  ? 

He  thought  of  that  sharp  look,  mother,  I  gave  him  yesterday — 

But  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother,  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  tlie  Sla--. 


Part  IV. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


243 


5.  They  say  he's  dying  all  for  love,  but  that  can  never  be  : 
They  say  his  heart  is  breaking,  mother — what  is  that  to  me  ? 
There's  many  a  bolder  lad  will  woo  me  any  summer  day, 

For  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother,  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  ilay. 

6.  Little  Effie  shall  go  with  me  to-morrow  to  the  green. 

And  you'll  be  there  too,  mother,  to  see  me  made  the  Queen ; 

For  the  shepherd-lads  on  every  side  will  come  from  far  away —       , 

And  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother,  I'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May. 


NEW- YEAR'S   EVE. 

7.  If  you're  waking,  call  me  early,  call  me  early,  mother  dear, 
For  I  would  see  the  sun  rise  upon  the  glad  New-year : 

It  is  the  last  New -year  that  I  shall  ever  see. 

Then  you  may  lay  me  low  in  the  mould,  and  think  no  more  of  me. 

8.  To-night  I  saw  the  sun  set :  he  set  and  left  behind 

The  good  old  year,  the  dear  old  time,  and  all  my  peace  of  mind ; 
And  the  New-year's  coming  up,  mother,  but  I  shall  never  see 
The  blossom  on  the  blackthorn,  the  leaf  upon  the  tree. 

9.  Last  May  we  made  a  crown  of  flowers ;  we  had  a  merry  day : 
Beneath  the  hawthorn  on  the  Green  they  made  me  Queen  of  May ; 
And  we  danced  about  the  May-pole  and  in  the  hazel  copse,  ^ 

Till  Charles's  Wain^  came  out  above  the  tall  white  chimney-tops. 

10.  There's  not  a  flower  on  all  the  hills :  the  frost  is  on  the  pane : 
I  only  wish  to  live  till  the  snowdrops  come  again : 
I  wish  the  snow  would  melt,  and  the  sun  come  out  on  high : 
I  long  to  see  a  flower  so,  before  the  day  I  die. 


244  WILLSON's  fourth  READEE.  Faux  IV. 

11.  The  building  rook  will  caw'  from  the  windy  tall  elm-tree, 
And  the  tufted  plover  pipe  along  the  fallow*  lea,  ^ 

And  the  swallow  will  come  back  again  with  summer  o'er  the  wave — 
But  I  shall  lie  alone,  mother,  within  the  mouldering  grave. 

12.  When  the  flowers  come  again,  mother,  beneath  the  waning  light 
You'll  never  see  me  more  in  the  long  gray  fields  at  night ; 
When  from  the  dry  dark  wold^  the  summer  airs  blow  cool 

On  the  oat-grass  and  the  sword-grass,  and  the  bulrush  in  the  pool. 

13.  You'll  bury  me,  my  mother,  just  beneath  the  hawthorn  shade. 
And  you'll  come  sometimes  and  see  me  where  I  am  lowly  laid. 
I  shall  not  forget  you,  mother ;  I  shall  hear  you  when  you  pass. 
With  your  feet  above  my  head  in  the  long  and  pleasant  grass. 

14.  I  have  been  wild  and  wayward,  but  you'll  forgive  me  now ; 
You'll  kiss  me,  my  own  mother,  upon  my  cheek  and  brow ; 
Nay,  nay,  you  must  not  weep,  nor  let  your  gi-ief  be  wild, 
You  should  not  fret  for  me,  mother — ^you  have  another  child. 

15.  Good-night,  good-night,  when  I  have  said  good-night  for  evermore, 
And  you  see  me  carried  out  from  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

Don't  let  Effie  come  to  see  me  till  my  grave  be  growing  green : 
She'll  be  a  better  child  to  you  than  ever  I  have  been. 

16.  She'll  find  my  garden-tools  upon  the  granaiy  floor: 

Let  her  take  them  :  they  are  hers  :  I  shall  never  garden  more : 
•  But  tell  her,  when  I'm  gone,  to  train  the  rose-bush  that  I  set 
About  the  parlor  window,  and  the  box  of  mignonnette.  "^ 

17.  Good-night,  sweet  mother :  call  me  before  the  day  is  bom. 
All  night  I  lie  awake,  but  I  fall  asleep  at  mom ; 

But  I  would  see  the  sun  rise  upon  the  glad  New-year, 
So,  if  you're  waking,  call  me,  call  me  early,  mother  dear. 

CONCLUSION.     . 

18.  I  thought  to  pass  away  before,  and  yet  alive  I  am ; 

And  in  the  fields  all  round  I  hear  the  bleating  of  the  lamb. 
How  sadly,  I  remember,  rose  the  morning  of  the  year ! 
To  die  before  the  snowdrop  came,  and  now  the  violet's  here. 

19.  It  seemed  so  hard  at  first,  mother,  to  leave  the  blessed  sun. 
And  now  it  seems  as  hard  to  stay,  and  yet  His  will  be  done ! 
But  still  I  think  it  can't  be  long  before  I  find  release ; 

And  that  good  man,  the  clergyman,  has  told  me  words  of  peace. 

20.  O  blessings  on  his  kindly  voice,  and  on  his  silver  hair ! 

And  blessings  on  his  whole  life  long,  until  he  meet  me  there  ! 
O  blessings  on  his  kindly  heart,  and  on  his  silver  head ! 
A  thousand  times  I  bless'd  him  as  he  knelt  beside  my  bed. 


Part  IV. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


245 


21.  He  show'd  me  all  the  mercy,  for  he  taught  me  all  the  sin: 

Now,  though  my  lamp  was  lighted  late,  there's  One  will  let  me  in : 
Nor  would  I  now  be  well,  mother,  again,  if  that  could  be, 
For  my  desire  is  but  to  pass  to  Him  that  died  for  me. 

22.  O  look !  the  sun  begins  to  rise,  the  heavens  are  in  a  glow ; 
He  shines  upon  a  hundred  fields,  and  all  of  them  I  know. 

And  there  I  move  no  longer  now,  and  there  his  light  may  shine — 
Wild  flowers  in  the  valley  for  other  hands  than  mine. 

23.  O  sweet  and  strange  it  seems  to  me,  that,  ere  this  day  is  done, 
The  voice  that  now  is  speaking  may  be  beyond  the  sun — 
Forever  and  forever  with  those  just  souls  and  true — 

And  what  is  life,  that  we  should  moan  ?  why  make  we  such  ado  ? 

24.  Forever  and  forever,  all  in  a  blessed  home — 

And  there  to  wait  a  little  while  till  yx)u  and  Effie  come  ; 
To  lie  within  the  light  of  God,  as  I  lie  upon  your  breast — 
And  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

Tennyson. 

1  €oP8i!:,  a  wood  of  small  growth.  I*  Fal'-i>ow,  left  unsowed  or  untilled  after 

2  CuAELEs's  Wain,  a  constellation  or  group      plowing. 

of  fixed  stars.  P  Li? a,  meadow  or  sward  land. 

•  €aw,  to  cry  like  a  crow,  rook,  or  raven,    k  Woi.d,  a  wood ;  sometimes  a  plain. 

p  Mign-ox-kettk'  (min-yon-ef),  a  plant. 


246  willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  IV. 


LESSON  VIII. 

THE  BISHOP  AND  THE  IQNG. 

1.  A  HEATHEN  king  once  caused  a  pious  bishop  to  be 
brought  before  him,  and  required  of  him  that  he  should  deny 
his  faith  and  sacrifice  to  the  gods.  But  the  bishop  said,  "  My 
lord  and  king,  that  I  shall  not  do."  Then  was  the  king  ex- 
ceeding angry,  and  said,  *'  Knowest  thou  not  that  thy  life  is 
in  my  power,  and  I  can  kill  thee  ?  One  look,  and  it  will  be 
done." 

2.  "  I  know  that,"  answered  the  bishop ;  "  but  allow  me  first 
to  state  a  case  to  thee,  and  a  question  for  thy  decision.  Sup- 
pose that  one  of  thy  most  faithful  servants  should  fall  into  the 
power  of  thine  enemies,  and  that  they  should  seek  to  move 
him  to  be  unfaithful  toward  thee,  so  that  he  should  betray 
4hee.  But,  seeing  that  thy  servant  remained  steadfast  in  his 
fidelity,  the  enemies  should  take  him,  and,  stripping  him  of 
all  his  clothes,  send  him  away  naked,  in  the  midst  of  mock- 
ings  and  insults.  Say,  O  king,  when  he  should  return  to  thee 
thus,  wouldst  thou  not  give  him  thy  best  robes,  and  recom- 
pense him  for  his  disgrace  with  honor  ?" 

3.  And  the  king  answered  and  said,  "Well,  yes;  but  what 
does  all  this  mean,  and  where  has  such  a  thing  happened?" 
Then  spake  the  holy  bishop,  "  Behold,  thou  canst  strip  me 
of  this  earthly  garment ;  but  I  have  a  3Iaster  who  will  robe 
me  anew.  Ought  I  then  to  regard  the  dress,  and  give  up 
fidelity  for  it  ?"  Then  said  the  heathen  monarch,  "  Go  !  I 
give  thee  thy  life  !" 


LESSON  IX. 

CONSIDER  BOTH  SIDES  OF  A  QUESTION. 

1.  In  the  days  of  knight-errantry^  and  paganism,  one  of 
our  old  British  princes  set  up  a  statue  to  the  goddess  of  Vic- 
tory, in  a  point  where  four  roads  met  together.  In  her  right 
hand  she  held  a  spear,  and  her  left  hand  rested  upon  a  shield. 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  247 

The  outside  of  this  shield  was  of  gold,  and  the  inside  of  sil- 
ver. On  the. former  was  inscribed,^  in  the  old  British  lan- 
guage, "  To  the  goddess  ever  favorable ;"  and  on  the  other, 
"  For  four  victories  obtained  successively  over  the  Picts  and 
other  inhabitants  of  the  northern  islands." 

2.  It  happened  one  day  that  two  knights  completely  armed, 
one  in  black  armor,  the  other  in  white,  arrived  from  opposite 
parts  of  the  country  at  this  statue,  just  about  the  same  time ; 
and,  as  neither  of  them  had  seen  it  before,  they  stopped  to 
read  the  inscription,  and  observe  the  excellence  of  its  work- 
manship. 

3.  After  contemplating  it  for  some  time,  "This  golden 
shield,"  says  the  black  knight — "  Golden  shield !"  cried  the 
white  knight  (who  was  as  strictly  observing  the  opposite 
side),  "  why,  if  I  have  my  eyes,  it  is  silver."  "  I  know  noth- 
ing of  yc^ur  eyes,"  replied  the  black  knight ;  "  but  if  ever  I 
saw  a  golden  shield  in  my  life,  this  is  one."  "  Yes,"  return- 
ed the  white  knight,  smiling,  "it  is  very  probable,  indeed, 
that  they  should  expose  a  shield  of  gold  in  so  public  a  place 
as  this !  For  my  part,  I  wonder  even  a  ^ver  one  is  not  too 
strong  a  temptation  for  the  devotion  of  some  people  who  pass 
this  way ;  and  it  appears,  by  the  date,  that  this  has  been  here 
above  three  years." 

4.  The  black  knight  could  not  bear  the  smile  with  which 
this  was  delivered,  and  grew  so  warm  in  the  dispute  that  it 
soon  ended  in  a  challenge ;  they  both,  therefore,  turned  theii' 
horses,  and  rode  back  so  far  as  to  have  sufficient'  space  for 
their  career ;  then,  fixing  their  spears  in  their  rests,  they  flew 
at  each  other  with  the  greatest  fury  and  impetuosity.^  Their 
shock  was  so  rude,  and  the  blow  on  each  side  so  effectual, 
that  they  both  fell  to  the  ground,  much  wounded  and  bruised, 
and  lay  there  for  some  time,  as  in  a  trance. 

5.  A  good  Druid,  who  was  traveling  that  way,  found  them 
in  this  condition.  The  Druids  were  the  physicians  of  those 
times  as  well  as  the  priests.  He  had  a  sovereign  balsam 
about  him,  which  he  had  composed  himself,  for  he  was  very 
skillful  in  all  the  plants  that  grew  in  the  fields  or  in  the  for- 
ests ;  he  stanched  their  blood,  applied  his  balsam  to  their 
wounds,  and  brought  them,  as  it  were,  from  death  to  life 


248  willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  IV. 

again.  As  soon  as  they  were  sufficiently  recovered,  he  began 
to  inquire  into  the  occasion  of  their  quarrel.  "  Why,  this 
man,"  cried  the  black  knight,  "  will  have  it  that  yonder  shield 
is  silver."  "  And  he  will  have  it,"  replied  the  white  knight, 
"  that  it  is  gold."  And  then  they  told  him  all  the  particulars 
of  the  affair. 

6.  "  Ah !"  said  the  Bruid,  with  a  sigh,  "  you  are  both  of 
you,  my  brethren,  in  the  right,  and  both  of  you  in  the  wrong. 
Had  either  of  you  given  himself  time  to  look  at  the  opposite 
side  of  the  shield,  as  well  as  that  which  first  presented  itself 
to  view,  all  this-passion  and  bloodshed  might  have  been  avoid- 
ed. However,  there  is  a  very  good  lesson  to  be  learned  from 
the  evils  that  have  befallen  you  on  this  occasion.  Permit  me, 
therefore,  to  entreat  you  by  all  our  gods,  and  by  this  goddess 
of  Victory  in  particular,  never  to  enter  into  any  dispute  fm* 
the  future  till  you  have  fairly  considered  both  sides  of  the 
questi07i.^'^  Beaumont. 

1  Knight-eb'-eant-by,  the  practice  of  nvan-js  Ik-bceTd'ed,  written  or  printed, 
dering  about  in  quest  of  adventures.  P  Im-pf-t-u-os'-i-ty,  violence. 


LESSON  X. 

THE  CHAMELEON. 
1.  The  chameleon  is  an  animal  of  the  lizard  kind,  chiefly 
found  in  Arabia  and  Egypt,  whose  color  often  changes  with- 
out any  apparent^  cause ;  which  circumstance  has  given  rise 
to  the  following  fable,  showing,  in  a  lively  and  striking  man- 
ner, the  folly  of  positiveness  in  opinion  : 

2.  Two  travelers  of  conceit ed^  cast. 
As  o'er  Arabia's  wilds  they  passed. 
And,  on  their  way,  in  friendly  chat, 
Now  talked  of  this,  and  then  of  that, 
Discoursed  a  while,  'mongst  other  matter, 
Of  the  chameleon^ s  form  and  nature. 

3.  "  A  stranger  animal,"  cries  one, 

"  Sure  never  lived  beneath  the  sun ; 
A  lizard's  body,  lean  and  long^ ; 
A  fish's  head^ ;  a  serpent's  tongue'  ; 


Pabt  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  249 

Its  foot  with  triple^  claw  disjoined^  ;* 
And  what  a  length  of  tail  behind^ ! 
How  slow  its  pace^ !  and  then  its  hue — 
Who  ever  saw  so  fine  a  blue^  ?" 

4.  "  Hold  there,"  the  other  quick  replies ; 
"  'Tis  green — I  saw  it  with  these  eyes, 
As  late  with  ojDen  mouth  it  lay. 
And  warmed  it  in  the  sunny  ray ; 
Stretched  at  its  ease,  the  beast  I  viewed. 
And  saw  it  eat  the  air  for  food." 

6.  "Z've  seen  it,  sir,  as  well  as  yow', 
And  must  again  affirm  it  hlue ; 
At  leisure  I  the  beast  surveyed 
Extended  in  the  cooling  shade." 

6.  "  'Tis  green,  'tis  green,  sir,  I  assure  ye." 
"  Green' !"  cries  the  other,  in  a  fury : 
"  Why,  sir,  d'ye  think  I've  lost  my  eyes'  ?" 
"  'Twere  no  great  loss\"  the  friemL replies' ; 
"  For  if  they  always  serve  you  th^, 
You'll  find  them  but  of  little  use." 

V.  So  high  at  last  the  contest  rose. 

From  words  they  almost  came  to  blows ; 
When  luckily  came  by  a  third — 
To  him  the  question  they  referred ; 
And  begged  he'd  tell  them,  if  he  knew. 
Whether  the  thing  was  green',  or  blue^  ? 

8.  "  Sirs',"  cries  the  umpire,^  "  cease  your  pother\« 
The  creature's  neither  one  nor  t'other^ ; 

I  caught  the  animal  last  night. 
And  viewed  it  o'er  by  candle-light ; 
I  marked  it  well — 'twas  black  as  jet ; 
You  stare !  but,  sirs,  I've  got  it  yet, 
And  can  produce  it."     "  Pray,  sir,  do ; 
I'll  lay  my  life  the  thing  is  blue." 

9.  "  And  ni  engage  that,  when  you've  seen 
The  reptile,  you'll  pronounce  him  green." 

L2 


250  WILLSON's  fourth   reader.  Fart  IV. 

"  Well,  then,  at  once  to  ease  the  doubt," 
Replies  the  man,  "  I'll  turn  him.  out ; 
'  And,  when  before  your  eyes  I've  set  him'. 
If  you  don't  find  him  black,  I'll  eat  him\" 
He  said,  then  full  before  their  sight 
Produced  the  beast,  and  lo — 'twas  white ! 

10.  Both  stared;  the  man  looked  wondrous  wise! 
"  My  cliildren',''  the  chameleon  cries 
(Then  first  the  creature  found  a  tongue), 
"  You  all  are  right',  and  all  are  wrong^ : 
When  next  you  talk  of  what  you  view'. 
Think  others  see  as  well  as  you  ; 
Nor  wonder  if  you  find  that  none 
Prefers  your  eyesight  to  his  own."  Merrick. 

1  Ap-pab'-ent,  plain  ;  evident.  ]*  Dis-join'ed,  separated. 

'■*  Con-ceit'-ed,  having  too  high  an  opinion, ^  Um'-pibe,  a  person  called  in  to  decide  a 

of  one's  self.  controversy ;  a  judge. 

'  Tuip'le,  three-fold  ;  three  parted.  1  ^  Poth'-ee,  foolish  controversy. 


LESSON^  XI. 

WE  ARE  SEVEN. 

1.  I  MET  a  little  cottage  girl. 

She  was  eight  years  old,  she  said ; 
Her  hair  was  thick  with  many  a  curl 
That  clustered  round  her  head. 

2.  She  had  a  rustic,  woodland  air. 

And  she  was  wildly  clad ; 
Her  face  was  fair,  yea,  very  fair — 
Her  beauty  made  me  glad. 

3.  "  Sisters  and  brothers,  little  maid, 

How  many  may  you  be^  ?" 
"  How  many'?  seven  in  all,"  she  said. 
And  wondering  looked  at  me. 

4.  "  And  where  are  they,  I  pray  you  telP  ?" 

She  answered,  "  Seven  are  w^e ; 
And  two  of  us  at  Conway  dwell, 
And  two  are  gone  to  sea ; 


Part  iV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  *  251 

5.  "  Two  of  US  in  the  church-yard  lie, 

My  sister  and  my  brother ; 
And  in  the  church-yard  cottage  I 
Dwell  near  them  with  my  mother." 

6.  "  You  say  that  two  at  Conway  dwell, 

And  two  are  gone  to  sea, 
Yet  ye  are  seven ;  I  pray  you  tell, 
Sweet  maid,  how  this  may  be^  ?" 

7.  Then  did  the  little  maid  reply, 

"  Seven  boys  and  girls  are  we : 

Two  of  us  in  the  church-yard  lie. 

Beneath  the  church-yard  tree." 

8.  "  You  run  about,  my  little  maid. 

Your  limbs  they  are  alive ; 
If  two  are  in  the  church-yard  laid, 
Then  ye  are  only  five." 

9.  "  Their  graves  are  green,  they  may  be  seen,'' 

The  little  maid  replied, 
"Twelve  steps  or  more  from  my  mother's  door. 
And  they  are  side  by  side. 

10.  "My  stockings  there  I  often  knit, 

My  'kerchief  there  I  hem ; 
And  there  upon  the  ground  I  sit — 
I  sit  and  sing  to  them. 

11.  "And  often  after  sunset,  sir, 

When  it  is  light  and  fair, 
I  take  my  little  porringer 
And  eat  my  supper  there. 

12.  "The  first  that  died  was  little  Jane; 

In  bed  she  moaning  lay,  « 

Till  God  reheved  her  of  her  pain. 
And  then  she  went  away. 

13.  "So  in  the  church-yard  she  was  laid; 

And,  when  the  grass  was  dry, 
Together  round  her  grave  we  played, 
My  brother  John  and  T. 


252  *^  willson's  fourth  KKADER.  PaKT  IV. 

1 4.  "  And,  when  the  ground  was  white  with  snow, 

And  I  could  run  and  slide, 
My  brother  John  was  forced  to  go, 
And  he  lies  by  her  side." 

15.  "  How  many  are  you,  then,"  said  I, 

"  If  they  two  are  in  heaven^  ?" 
The  little  maiden  did  reply, 
"  O  master' !  we  are  seven\" 

16.  "  But  they  are  dead — those  two  are  dead ; 

Their  spirits  are  in  heaven :" 
'Twas  throwing  words  away ;  for  still 
The  little  maid  would  have  her  will, 

And  said,  "  Nay,  we  are  seven."       Wordsworth. 


LESSON  XII. 

ON  GOOD  BREEDING. 


1.  As  learning,  honor,  and  virtue  are  absolutely  necessary 
to  gain  you  the  esteem  and  admiration  of  mankind,  polite- 
ness and  good  breeding  are  equajly  necessary  to  make  you 
agreeable  in  conversation  and  common  life.  Great  talents 
are  above  the  generality  of  the  world,  who  neither  possess 
them  themselves,  nor  judge  of  them  rightly  in  others ;  but 
all  people  are  judges  of  the  smaller  talents,  such  as  civility, 
affability,  and  an  obliging,  agreeable  address  and  manner, 
because  they  feel  the  effects  of  them,  as  making  society  easy 
and  pleasing. 

2.  Good  sense  must,  in  many  cases,  determine  good  breed- 
ing ;  but  there  are  some  general  rules  of  it  that  always  hold 
true.  For  example,  it  is  extremely  rude  not  to  give  proper 
attention,  and  s^ivil  answer,  when  people  speak  to  you ;  or 
to  go  away,  or  be  doing  something  else,  while  they  are 
speaking  to  you ;  for  that  convinces  them  that  you  despise 
them,  and  do  not  think  it  worth  your  while  to  hear  or  an- 
swer what  they  say.  It  is  also  very  rude  to  take  the  best 
place  in  a  room,  or  to  seize  immediately  upon  what  you  like 
at  table,  -without  offering  first  to  help  others,  as  if  you  con- 


Fart  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  263 

sidered  nobody  but  yourself.  On  the  contrary,  you  should 
always  endeavor  to  procure  all  the  conveniences  you  can  to 
the  people  you  are  with. 

3.  Besides  being  civil,  which  is  absolutely  necessary,  the 
perfection  of  good  breeding  is  to  be  civil  with  ease,  and  in 
a  becoming  manner ;  awkwardness  can  proceed  but  from 
two  causes,  either  from  not  having  kept  good  company,  or 
from  not  having  attended  to  it.  Attention  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  improving  in  behavior,  as,  indeed,  it  is  for 
every  thing  else.  If  an  awkward  person  drinks  tea  or  coffee, 
he  often  scalds  his  mouth,  and  lets  either  the  cup  or  the 
saucer  fall,  and  spills  the  tea  or  coffee  on  his  clothes. 

4.  At  dinner  his  awkwardness  distinguishes  itself  particu- 
larly, as  he  has  more  to  do.  There  he  holds  his  knife,  fork, 
and  spoon  differently  from  other  people;  eats  with  his  knife, 
to  the  great  danger  of  his  lips ;  picks  his  teeth  with  his  fork ; 
and  puts  his  spoon,  which  has  been  in  his  mouth  twenty 
times,  into  the  dishes  again.  If  he  is  to  carve,  he  can  never 
hit  the  joint ;  but,  in  his  vain  efforts  to  cut  through  the  bone, 
scatters  the  sauce  in  every  body's  face.  He  generally  daubs 
himself  with  soup  and  grease,  though  his  napkin  is  common- 
ly stuck  through  a  button-hole,  and  tickles  his  cliin.  When 
he  drinks,  he  coughs  in  his  glass,,  and  besprinkles  the  com- 
pany. 

5.  Besides  all  this,  he  has  strange  tricks  and  gestures,  such 
as  snuffing  up  his  nose,  making  faces,  putting  his  fingers  in 
his  noSe,  or  blowing  it,  so  as  greatly  to  disgust  the  company. 
His  hands  are  troublesome  to  him  when  he  has  not  some- 
thing in  them ;  and  he  does  not  know  w^here  to  put  them, 
but  keeps  them  in  perpetual  motion.  All  this,  I  own,  is  not 
in  any  degree  criminal ;  but  it  is  highly  disagreeable  and  ri- 
diculous in  company,  and  ought  most  carefully  to  be  guarded 
against  by  every  one  that  desires  to  please. 

6.  There  is,  likewise,  an  awkwardness  of  expression  and 
words  which  ought  to  be  avoided,  such  as  false  English,  bad 
pronunciation,  old  sayings,  and  vulgar  proverbs,  which  are 
so  many  proofs  of  a  poor  education.  For  example,  if,  instead 
of  saying  that  tastes  are  different,  and  that  every  man  has  his 
own  peculiar  one,  you  should  repeat  a  vulgar  provert),  and 


254  willson's  foueth  reader.  Pabt  IV. 

say  that  "  what  is  one  man's  meat  is  another  man's  poison," 
or  else,  "  Every  one  to  his  Hking,  as  the  good  man  said  when 
he  kissed  his  cow,"  the  company  would  be  persuaded  that 
you  had  never  associated  with  any  but  low  persons. 

V.  To  mistake  or  forget  names,  to  speak  of  "  What-d'ye- 
call-him,"  or  "  Thingum,"  or  "  How-d'ye-call  her,"  is  excess- 
ively awkward  and  vulgar.  To  begin  a  story  or  narration 
when  you  are  not  perfect  in  it,  and  can  not  go  through  with 
it,  but  are  forced,  possibly,  to  say  in  the  middle  of  it,  "  I  have 
forgotten  the  rest,"  is  very  unpleasant  and  bungling.  One 
must  be  extremely  exact,  clear,  and  perspicuous  in  every 
thing  one  says ;  otherwise,  instead  of  entertaining  or  inform- 
ing others,  one  only  tires  and  puzzles  them. 

8.  The  voice  and  manner  of  speaking,  too,  are  not  to  be 
neglected.  Some  people  almost  shut  their  mouths  when 
they  speak,  and  mutter  so  that  they  are  not  to  be  under- 
stood ;  others  speak  so  fast,  and  sputter,  that  they  are  equal- 
ly uninteUigible.  Some  always  speak  as  loud  as  if  they  were 
talking  to  deaf  people ;  and  others  so  low  that  one  can  not 
hear  them.  All  these,  and  many  other  habits,  are  awkward 
and  disagreeable,  and  are  to  be  avoided  by  attention.  You 
can  not  imagine  how  necessary  it  is  to  mind  all  these  little 
things.  I  have  seen  many  people  with  great  talents  ill  re- 
ceived for  w^ant  of  having  these  little  talents  of  good  breed- 
ing ;  and  others  well  received  only  from  their  little  talents, 
and  who  had  no  great  ones.  Anonymous. 


LESSON  xm. 

THE   HERITAGE. 

The  rich  man's  son  inherits^  lands, 

And  piles  of  brick,  and  stone,  and  gold ; 

And  he  inherits  soft,  white  hands. 
And  tender  flesh  that  fears  the  cold, 
Nor  dares  to  wear  a  garment  old ; 

A  heritage,^  it  seems  to  ine, 

One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee.^ 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  255 

2.  The  rich  man's  son  inherits  cares : 

The  bank  may  break,  the  factory  burn, 
A  breath  may  bm-st  his  bubble  shares, 
And  soft  white  hands  could  hardly  earn 
A  living  that  would  serve  his  turn ; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me. 
One  would  not  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

3.  What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit^  ? 

Stout  muscles,  and  a  sinewy  heart, 
A  hardy  frame,  a  hardier  spirit ; 

King  of  two  hands,  he  does  his  part 

In  every  useful  toil  and  art ; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

4.  What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit'  ?* 

Wishes  o'erjoyed  with  humble  things. 
A  rank  adjudged*  by  toil- won  merit, 

Content  that  from  employment  springs, 

A  heart  that  in  his  labor  sings ; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

6.  What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit'  ? 
A  patience  learned  by  being  poor ; 

Courage,  if  sorrow  come,  to  bear  it ; 
A  fellow-feeling  that  is  sure 
To  make  the  outcast^  bless  his  door ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

6.  O  rich  man's  son !  there  is  a  toil, 
That  with  all  other  level  stands ; 
Large  charity  doth  never  soil. 

But  only  whiten  soft  white  hands — 
This  is  the  best  crop  from  thy  lands ; 

*  This  may  be  regarded  in  the  nature  of  an  indirect  question,  asking  a  repetition  of 
•what  may  not  have  been  fully  understood.  See  Note  to  Rule  III.  Or  it  may  be  regard- 
ed as  an  exclamatory  sentence  that  becomes  a  question.  See  Note  to  Kule  X.  In  either 
case  it  should  receive  the  rising  inflection. 


256  willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  IV. 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
Worth  being  rich  to  hold  in  fee. 

Y.  O  poor  man's  son !  scorn  not  thy  state ; 
There  is  worse  weariness  than  thine, 

In  merely  being  rich  and  great : 
Toil  only  gives  the  soul  to  shine, 
And  makes  rest  fragrant  and  benign  f 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me. 

Worth  being  poor  to  hold  in  fee. 

8.  Both,  heirs  to  some  six  feet  of  sod, 

Are  equal  in  the  earth  at  last ; 
Both,  children  of  the  same  dear  God, 

Prove  title  to  your  heirship  vast 

By  record  of  a  well-filled  past ; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me. 
Well  worth  a  life  to  hold  in  fee.         j.  R.  Lowell. 


1  In-hee'-its,  takes  by  descent  from  an  an- 
cestor. 

2  HEE'-iT-A<iE,  an  inheritance;   estate  de- 
rived from  an  ancestor. 

3  "  In  fee,"  an  estate  or  property  which  onej     ence 
has  in  his  own  right,  and  Avhich  may  be 
Inherited  by  his  heirs. 


*  AD-Jtrno'EP,  decreed  ;  determined. 

*  OuT'-eXST,  one  driven  from  home  or  coun- 
try. 

6  Be-nTgn',  favorable;  having  a  good  influ- 


LESso:Nr  XIV. 

SCHEMES  OF  LIFE  OFTEN  ILLUSORY. 

1.  Omar,  the  son  of  Hassan',  had  passed  seventy-five  years 
in  honor  and  prosperity\  The  favor  of  three  successive  ca- 
lifs had  filled  his  house  with  gold  and  silver ;  and  wheneve^ 
he  appeared',  the  benedictions  of  the  people  proclaimed  his 
presence. 

2.  Earthly  happiness  is  of  short  continuance\  The  bright- 
ness of  the  flame  is  wasting  its  fueP ;  the  fragrant  flower  is 
passing  away  in  its  own  odors\  The  vigor  of  Omar  began 
to  fair ;  the  curls  of  beauty  fell  from  his  head^ ;  strength  de- 
parted from  his  hands',  and  agility  from  his  feet\  He  gave 
back  to  the  calif  the  keys  of  trust,  and  the  seals  of  secrecy ; 
and  sought  no  other  pleasure  for  the  remainder  of  life  than 
the  converse  of  the  wise',  and  the  gratitude  of  the  good\ 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  267 

3.  The  powers  of  his  mind  were  yet  unimpaired.  His 
chamber  was  filled  by  visitants,  eager  to  catch  the  dictates 
of  experience,  and  officious  to  pay  the  tribute  of  admiration. 
Caleb,  the  son  of  the  viceroy  of  Egypt',  entered  every  day 
early,  and  retired  late\  He  was  beautiful  and  eloquent^: 
Omar  admired  his  wit,  and  loved  his  docility. 

4.  "Tell  me,"  said  Caleb',  "thou  to  whose  voice  nations 
have  listened,  and  whose  wisdom  is  known  to  the  extremities 
of  Asia',  tell  me  how  I  may  resemble  Omar  the  prudent\ 
The  arts  by  which  thou  hast  gained  power  and  preserved  it 
are  to  thee  no  longer  necessary  nor  useful ;  impart  to  me^  the 
secret  of  thy  conduct,  and  teach  me  the  plan  upon  which  thy 
wisdom  has  built  thy  fortune\" 

5.  "  Young  man',"  said  Omar',  "  it  is  of  little  use  to  form 
plans  of  life\  When  I  took  my  first  survey  of  the  world  in 
my  twentieth  year',  having  considered  the  various  conditions 
of  mankind,  in  the  hour  of  solitude  I  said  thus  to  myself, 
leaning  against  a  cedar,  which  spread  its  branches  over  my 
head :  '  Seventy  years  are  allowed  to  man^ ;  I  have  yet  fifty 
remaining. 

6.  " '  Ten  years  I  will  allot  to  the  attainment  of  knowl- 
edge', and  ten  I  will  pass  in  foreign  countries^ ;  I  shall  be 
learned',  and  therefore  shall  be  honored^;  every  city  will' 
shout  at  my  arrival',  and  every  student  will  solicit  my  friend- 
ship\  Twenty  years  thus  passed  will  store  my  mind  with 
images,  which  I  shall  be  busy,  through  the  rest  of  my  life,  in 
combining  and  comparing.  I  shall  revel  in  inexhaustible  ac- 
cumulations of  intellectual  riches^ ;  I  shall  find  new  pleasures 
for  every  moment',  and  shal^never  more  be  weary  of  myself  \ 

1.  "  '  I  will  not,  however,  deviate  too  far  from  the  beaten 
track  of  life',  but  will  try  what  can  be  found  in  female  deli- 
cacy\  I  will  marry  a  wife  as  beautiful  as  the  Houris',  and 
wise  as  Zobeide^ ;  and  with  her  I  will  live  twenty  years  with- 
in the  suburbs  of  Bagdat,  in  every  pleasure  that  wealth  can 
purchase,  and  fancy  can  invent. 

8.  "  *  I  will  then  retire  to  a  rural  dwelling,  pass  my  days  in 
obscurity  and  contemplation,  and  lie  silently  down  on  the 
bed  of  death.  Through  my  fife  it  shall  be  my  settled  resolu- 
tion that  I  will  never  depend  on  the  smile  of  princes ;  that  I 


258  willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  IV. 

will  never  stand  exposed  to  the  artifices  of  courts ;  that  I  will 
never  pant  for  public  honors,  nor  disturb  my  quiet  with  the 
affairs  of  state.'  Such  was  my  scheme  of  life,  which  I  im- 
pressed indelibly  upon  my  memory. 

9.  "  The  first  part  of  my  ensuing  time'  was  to  be  spent  in 
search  of  knowledge^  and  I  know  not  how  I  was  diverted 
from  my  design\  I  had  no  visible  impediments  without' ,  nor 
any  ungovernable  passions  within\  I  regarded  knowledge 
as  the  highest  honor,  and  the  most  engaging  pleasure^ ;  yet 
day  stole  upon  day,  and  month  glided  after  month,  till  I  found 
that  seven  years  of  the  first  ten  had  vanished',  and  left  noth- 
ing behind^  them. 

10.  "I  now  postponed  my  purpose  of  traveling;  for  why 
should  I  go  abroad^,  while  so  much  remained  to  be  learned  at 
home^  ?  I  immured  myself  for  four  years,  and  studied  the 
laws  of  the  empire.  The  fame  of  my  skill  reached  the  judges : 
I  was  found  able  to  speak  upon  doubtful  questions,  and  I  was 
commanded  to  stand  at  the  footstool  of  the  calif.  I  was 
heard  with  attention ;  I  was  consulted  with  confidence,  and 
the  love  of  praise  fastened  on  my  heart. 

11.  "I  stiU  wished  to  see  distant  countries ;  listened  with 
rapture  to  the  relations  of  travelers,  and  resolved  some  time 
*to  ask  my  dismission,  that  I  might  feast  my  soul  with  novel- 
ty^ ;  but  my  presence  was  always  necessary,  and  the  stream 
of  business  hurried  me  along.  Sometimes  I  was  afraid  lest  I 
should  be  charged  with  ingratitude ;  but  I  still  proposed  to 
travel,  and  therefore  would  not  confine  myself  by  marriage. 

12.  "In  my  fiftieth  year',  I  began  to  suspect  that  the  time 
of  my  traveling  was  past,  and  thought  it  best  to  lay  hold  on 
the  felicity  yet  in  my  power,  and  indulge  myself  in  domestic^ 
pleasures.  But  at  fifty  no  man  easily  finds  a  woman  beauti- 
ful as  thg  Uouris,  and  wise  as  Zobeide.  I  inquired  and  re- 
jected, consulted  and  deliberated,  till  the  sixty-second  year 
made  me  ashamed  of  wishing  to  marry.  I  had  now  nothing 
left  but  retirement^ ;  and  for  retirement  I  never  found  a  time', 
until  disease  forced  me  from  public  employment\ 

13.  "Such  was  my  scheme',  and  such  has  been  its  conse- 
quence\  With  an  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge',  I  trifled 
away  the  years  of  improvement^ ;  with  a  restless  desire  of 


Fart  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  259 

seeing  diiferent  countries',  I  have  always  resided  in  the  same 
city^ ;  with  the  highest  expectation  of  connubial  felicity'',  I 
have  hved  unmarried^ ;  and  with  an  unalterable  resolution  of 
contemplative  retirement^,  I  am  going  to  die  within  the  walls 
ofBagdat\" 


LESSON  XV. 
A  PSALM  OF  LIFE. 

1.  Tell  me  not,  in  mournful  numbers, 

Life  is  but  an  empty  dream' ! 
For  the  soul  is  dead^  that  slumbers', 
And  things  are  not  what  they  seem\ 

2.  Life  is  rtaV  !    Life  is  earnest'  I 

And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal ; 
"  Dust  thou  art,  to  dust  returnest," 
Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul. 

3.  Not  enjoyment,  and  not  sorrow, 

Is  our  destined  end  or  way ; 

But  to  act,  that  each  to-morrow 

Find  us  farther  than  to-day. 

4.  Art  is  long,  and  time  is  fleeting ;. 

And  our  hearts,  though  stout  and  brave 
Still,  hke  muffled  drums,  are  beating 
Funeral  marches  to  the  grave. 

6.  In  the  world's  broad  field  of  battle, 
In  the  bivouac  of  life. 
Be  not  like  dumb,  driven  cattle ! 
Be  a  hero  in  the  strife. 

6.  Trust  no  future,  howe'er  pleasant, 

Let  the  dead  Past  bury  its  dead ! 
Act — act  in  the  living  present ! 
Heart  within,  and  God  o'erhead. 

7.  Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us. 

We  can  make  our  lives  sublime ; 
And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 
Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time; 


260  WILLSOn's  fourth  reader.  Tart  IV 

8.  Footprints  that  perhaps  another, 

Sailing  o'er  life's  solemn  main, 
A  forlorn  and  shipwrecked  brother,     ♦ 
Seeing,  shall  take  heart  again. 

9.  Let  us,  then,  be  up  and  doing. 

With  a  heart  for  any  fate ; 
Still  achieving,  still  pursuing, 

Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait.  Longfellow. 


LESSON  XYI. 

PRACTICAL  PRECEPTS. 

SIR   MATTHEW   HALE. 

1.  Never  speak  any  thing  for  a  truth  which  you  know  or 
believe  to  be  false.  Lying  is  a  great  sin  against  God,  who 
^ve  us  a  tongue  to  speak  truths,  and  not  falsehoods.  It  is 
a  great  offense  against  humanity  itself;  for  where  there  is  no 
regard  to  truth,  there  can  be  no  safe  society  between  man 
and  man. 

2.  And  it  is  an  injury  to  the  speaker  ;  for,  besides  the  dis- 
grace which  it  brings  upon  him,  it  occasions  so  much  base- 
ness of  mind  that  he  can  scarcely  tell  truth,  or  avoid  lying 
even  when  he  has  no  color  of  necessity  for  it ;  and,  in  time, 
he  comes  to  such  a  pass  that,  as  other  people  can  not  believe 
he  speaks  truth,  so  he  himself  scarcely  knows  when  he  tells  a 
falsehood. 

3.  You  must  not  equivocate,  nor  speak  any  thing  positive- ' 
ly  for  which  you  have  no  authority  but  report,  or  conjecture, 
or  opinion.  Let  your  words  be  few,  especially  when  your 
superiors  or  strangers  are  present,  lest  you  betray  your  own 
weakness,  and  rob  yourself  of  the  opportunity  which  you 
might  otherwise  have  had  to  gain  knowledge,  wisdom,  and 
experience,  by  hearing  those  whom  you  silence  by  your  im- 
pertinent talking.  * 

4.  Be  not  too  earnest,  loud,  or  violent  in  your  conversation. 
Silence  your  opponent  with  reason,  not  with  noise.  Be  care- 
ful not  to  interrupt  another  when  he  is  speaking.     Hear  him 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  261 

out,  and  you  will  understand  him  the  better,  and  be  ablfe  to 
give  him  the  better  answer. 

5.  Consider  before  you  speak,  especially  when  the  business 
is  of  moment ;  weigh  the  sense  of  what  you  mean  to  utter, 
and  the  expressions  you  intend  to  use,  that  they  may  be  sig- 
nificant, to  the  point,  and  inoffensive.  Inconsiderate  per- 
sons do  not  think  till  they  speak;  or  they  speak,  and  then 
think.  ^ 

6.  Some  men  excel  in  one  thing,  some  in  another.  In  con- 
versation learn,  as  near  as  you  can,  where  the  skill  or  excel- 
lence of  any  person  lies ;  put  hini  upon  talking  on  that  sub- 
ject, observe  what  he  says,  keep  it  in  your  memory,  or  com- 
mit it  to  writing.  By  this  means  you  will  glean  knowledge 
from  every  one  with  whom  you  converse,  and  at  an  easy  rate 
acquire  what  may  be  of  use  to  you  on  many  occasions. 

V.  When  you  are  in  company  with  light,  vain,  impertinent 
persons,  let  the  observing  of  their  failings  make  you  the  more 
cautious  both  in  your  conversation  with  them  and  in  your 
general  behavior,  that  you  may  avoid  their  errors. 

8.  If  any  one,  who||^ou  do  not  know  to  be  a  person  of 
truth,  sobriety,  and  weight,  relates  strange  stories,  be  not  too 
ready  to  believe  or  report  them ;  and  yet,  unless  he  is  one 
of  your  familiar  acquaintances,  be  not  too  forward  to  contra- 
dict him. 

9.  If  the  occasion  requires  you  to  declare  your  opinion,  do 
it  modestly  and  gently,  not  bluntly  nor  coarsely;  by  this 
means  you  will  avoid  giving  offense,  or  being  abused  for  too 
much  credulity. 


LESSON  XVII. 
THE  INQUIRY. 

CHABLES   MACKAT. 

1.  Tell  me,  ye  winged  winds, 

That  round  my  pathway  roar, 
Do  ye  not  know  some  spot 
Where  mortals  weep  no  more  ? 


262  willson's  fourth  reader.  PabtIV. 

Some  lone  and  pleasant  dell, 

Some  valley  in  the  west, 
Where,  free  from  toil  and  pain, 
The  weary  soul  may  rest  ? 
The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low, 
And  sighed  for  pity,  as  it  answered — "  No." 

m  2.  Tell  me,  thou  mighty  deep. 

Whose  billows  round  me  play, 
Know'st  thou  some  favored  spot, 

Some  island  far  away,  • 

Where  weary  man  may  find 

The  bliss  for  which  he  sighs — • 
Where  sorrow  never  lives. 
And  friendship  never  dies  ? 
The  loud  waves,  rolling  in  perpetual  flow. 
Stopped  for  a  while,  and  sighed  to  answer — "  No.'' 

3.  And  thou,  serenest  moon, 

That,  with  such  lovely  face. 
Dost  look  upon  the  ea||h 

Asleep  in  night's  embrace, 
Tell  me,  in  all  thy  round. 

Hast  thou  not  seen  some  spot 
Where  miserable  man 
Might  find  a  happier  lot  ? 
Behind  a  cloud  the  moon  withdrew  in  woe. 
And  a  voice,  sweet  but  sad,  responded — "  No." 

4.  Tell  me,  my  secret  soul. 

Oh !  tell  me,  Hope  and  Faith, 
Is  there  no  resting-place 

From  sorrow,  sin,  and  death  ? 
Is  there  no  happy  spot 

Where  mortals  may  be  blessed. 
Where  grief  may  find  a  balm, 
And  weariness  a  rest  ? 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love,  best  boons  to  mortals  given. 
Waved  their  bright  wings,  and  whispered — "Yes,  in 
Heaven!" 


Pakt  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  263 


LESSON  XYIII. 
THE  HOUR  OF  PRAYER. 

1.  Child',  amid  the  flowers  at  play, 
While  the  red  light  fades  away'; 
Mother',  with  thine  earnest  eye 
Ever  following  silently' ; 
Father',  by  the  breeze  at  eve 
Call'd  thy  harvest  work  to  leave' — 
Pray^ :  ere  yet  the  dark  hours  be,  - 
Lift  the  heart  and  bend  the  knee\ 

2.  Traveler',  in  the  stranger's  land, 

Far  from  thine  own  household  band' ; 
Mourner',  haunted  by  the  tone 
Of  a  voice  firom  this  world  gone' ; 
Captive',  in  whose  narrow  cell 
Sunshine'hath  not  leave  to  dwell' ; 
Sailor',  on  the  darkening  sea', — 
Lift  the  heart  and  bend  the  knee. 

3.  Warrior',  that  from  battle  won, 
Breathest  now  at  set  of  sun' ; 
Woman',  o'er  the  lowly  slain 
Weeping  on  his  burial  plain' ; 
Ye  that  triumph',  ye  that  sigh', 
Kindred  by  one  holy  tie'. 
Heaven's  first  star  alike  ye  see^ ; — 

Lift  the  heart  and  bend  the  knee\  Hemans. 


Prayer  is  the  soul's  sincere  desire. 

Uttered  or  unexpressed — 
The  motion  of  a  hidden  fire 

That  trembles  in  the  breast. 
Prayer  is  the  simplest  form  of  speech 

That  infant  lips  can  try — 
Prayer 'the  sublimest  strains  that  reach 

The  Majesty  on  high.  Montgomery, 


264 


willson's  foubth  keadbib. 


Pakt  IV. 


LESSON  XIX. 


THE  THEEE   SONS. 

1.  I  HAVE  a  son,  a  little  son,  a  boy  just  five  years  old, 

With  eyes  of  thoughtful  earnestness,  and  mind  of  gentle  mould ; 

They  tell  me  that  unusual  grace  in  all  his  ways  appears, 

That  my  child  is  grave  and  wise  of  heart  beyond  his  childish  years. 

I  can  not  say  how  this  may  be — I  know  his  face  is  fair, 

And  yet  his  chiefest  comeliness  is  his  sweet  and  serious  air: 

I  know  his  heart  is  kind  and  fond,  I  know  he  loveth  me, 

But  loveth  yet  his  mother  more  with  grateful  fi|r^^ency. 

2.  But  that  which  others  most  admire  is  the  thought  which  fills  his  mind ; 
The  food  for  grave  inquiring  speech  he  every  where  doth  find  : 


Part  IV;  MISCELLANEOUS.  265 

Strange  questions  doth  he  ask  of  me^  when  we  together  walk  ; 
He  scarcely  thinks  as  children  think,  or  talks  as  children  talk ; 
Nor  cares  he  much  for  childish  sports,  dotes  not  on  bat  or  ball, 
But  looks  on  manhood's  ways  and  works,  and  aptly  mimics  all. 

3.  His  little  heart  is  busy  still,  and  oftentimes  perplex'd 

With  thoughts  about  this  world  of  ours,  and  thoughts  about  the  next ; 

He  kneels  at  his  dear  mother's  knee,  she  teaches  him  to  pray, 

And  strange,  and  sweet,  and  solemn  then  are  the  words  which  he  wUl  say. 

Oh,  should  my  gentle  child  be  spared  to  manhood's  years  like  me, 

A  holier  and  a  wiser  man  I  trust  that  he  will  be : 

And  when  I  look  into  his  eyes,  and  stroke  his  thoughtful  brow, 

I  dare  not  think  what  I  should  feel,  were  I  to  lose  him  now. 

4.  I  have  a  son,  a  second  son,  a  simple  child  of  three ; 

I'll  not  declare  how  bright  and  fair  his  little  features  be, 
How  silver  sweet  those  tones  of  his  when  he  prattles  on  my  knee. 
I  do  not  think  his  light  blue  eye  is,  like  his  brother's,  keen, 
Nor  his  brow  so  full  of  childish  thought  as  his  hath  ever  been ; 
But  his  little  heart's  a  fountain  pure  of  kind  and  tender  feeling, 
And  his  eveiy  look's  a  gleam  of  light,  rich  depths  of  love  revealing. 

5.  When  he  walks  with  me,  the  country  folk,  who  pass  us  in  the  street. 
Will  shout  with  joy,  and  bl<5ss  my  boy,  he  looks  so  mild  and  sweet. 
A  playfellow  is  he  to  all,  and  yet,  with  cheerful  tone, 

Will  sing  his  little  song  of  love,  when  left  to  sport  alone. 
His  presence  is  like  sunshine  sent  to  gladden  home  and  hearth, 
To  comfort  us  in  all  our  griefs,  and  sweeten  all  our  mirth. 
Should  he  grow  up  toWper  years,  God  grant  his  heart  may  prove 
As  sweet  a  home  for  heavenly  grace  as  now  for  earthly  love. 
And  if,  beside  his  grave,  the  tears  our  aching  eyes  must  dim, 
God  comfort  us  for  all  the  love  which  we  shall  lose  in  him. 

6.  I  have  a  son,  a  third  sweet  son ;  his  age  I  can  not  tell. 

For  they  reckon  not  by  yeai-s  or  months  where  he  is  gone  to  dwell. 
To  us,  for  fourteen  anxious  months,  his  infant  smiles  were  given, 
And  then  he  bade  farewell  to  Earth,  and  went  to  live  in  Heaven. 
I  can  not  tell  what  form  is  his,  what  looks  he  weareth  now, 
Nor  guess  how  bright  a  glory  crowns  his  shining  seraph  brow. 
The  thoughts  that  fill  his  sinless  soul,  the  bliss  which  he  doth  feel, 
Are  number'd  with  the  secret  things  which  God  will  not  reveal. 

7.  But  I  know  (for  God  hath  told  me  this)  that  he  is  now  at  rest, 
Where  other  blessed  infants  be,  on  their  Savior's  loving  breast. 
I  know  his  spirit  feels  no  more  this  weary  load  of  flesh, 

But  his  sleep  is  bless'd  with  endless  dreams  of  joy  forever  fresh. 
I  know  the  angels  fold  him  close  beneath  their  glittering  wings, 
And  soothe  him  with  a  song  that  breathes  of  Heaven's  divinest  things. 
I  know  that  we  shall  meet  our  babe  (his  mother  dear  and  I), 
When  God  for  aye  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  every  eye. 

M 


260^ 


Part  IV. 


8.  What'er  befalls  his  brethren  twain,  his  bliss  can  never  cease ; 
Their  lot  may  here  be  gi-ief  and  fear,  but  his  is  certain  i>eace. 
It  may  be  that  the  tempter's  wiles  their  souls  from  bliss  may  sever 
But  if  our  own  poor  faith  fail  not,  he  must  be  ours  forever. 
When  we  think  of  what  our  darling  is,  and  what  we  still  must  be — 
When  we  muse  on  that  world's  perfect  bliss,  and  this  world's  misery — 
When  we  groan  beneath  this  load  of  sin,  and  feel  this  grief  and  pain — 
Oh  I  we'd  rather  lose  our  other  two,  than  have  him  here  again. 

Moultrie. 


LESSON  XX. 
THE  BLIND  PREACHER. 

FROM  WIRT'S    BRITISH    SPY. 

1.  It  was  one  Sunday,  as  I  was  traveling  through  the  coun- 
ty  of  Orange,  that  my  eye  was  caught  by  a  cluster  of  horses 
tied  near  a  ruinous  old  wooden  house,  in  the  forest,  not  far 
from  the  road-side.  Having  frequently  seen  such  objects  be- 
fore in  travehng  through  these  states,  I  had  no  difficulty  in 
understanding  that  this  was  a  place  of  religious  worship. 

2.  Devotion  alone  should  have  stopped  me  to  join  in  the 
duties  of  the  congregation  ;  but  I  must  confess  that  curiosity 
to  hear  the  preacher  of  such  a  wilderness  was  not  the  least 
of  my  motives.  On  entering,  I  was  struck  with  his  preter  • 
naturaP  appearance.  He  was  a  tall  and  very  spare  old  man ; 
his  head,  which  was  covered  with  a  white  linen  cap,  his  shriv- 
eled^  hands,  and  his  voice,  were  all  shaking  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  palsy  f  and  a  few  moments  ascertained'^  to  me  that 
he  was  perfectly  blind. 

3.  The  first  emotions  which  touched  my  breast  were  those 
of  mingled  pity  and  veneration.  But  how  soon  were  all  my 
feelings  changed !  It  was  a  day  of  the  administration  of  the 
sacrament;^  and  his  subject,  of  course,  was  the  passion^  of 
our  Savior.  I  had  heard  the  subject  handled  a  thousand 
times.     I  had  thought  it  exhausted  long  ago. 

4.  Little  did  I  suppose  that  in  the  wild  woods  of  America 
I  was  to  meet  with  a  man  whose  eloquence  would  give  to 
this  topic  a  new  and  more  sublime  pathos''  than  I  had  ever 
before  witnessed.  As  he  descended  from  the  pulpit  to  dis- 
tribute the  mystic  symbols,®  there  was  a  peculiar — a  more 


Pakt  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  267 

than  human  solemnity  in  his  air  and  manner,  which  made  my 
blood  run  cold,  and  my  whole  frame  shiver. 

5.  He  then  drew  a  picture  of  the  sufferings  of  our  Savior 
— his  trial  before  Pilate — his  ascent  up  Calvary — ^his  cruci- 
fixion— and  his  death.  I  knew  the  whole  history ;  but  never, 
until  then,  had  I  heard  the  circumstances  so  selected,  so  ar- 
ranged, so  colored !  It  was  all  new ;  and  I  seemed  to  have 
heard  it  for  the  first  time  in  my  life. 

6.  His  enunciation^  was  so  deliberate  that  his  voice  trem- 
bled on  every  syllable ;  and  every  heart  in  the  assembly  trem- 
bled in  unison.io  His  peculiar  phrases  had  that  force  of  de- 
scription, that  the  original  scene  appeared  to  be,  at  that  mo- 
ment, acting  before  our  eyes.  We  saw  the  very  faces  of  the 
Jews ;  the  staring,  frightful  distortions  of  malice  and  rage. 
We  saw  the  buffet  ;i^  my  soul  kindled  with  a  flame  of  indig- 
nation ;  and  my  hands  were  involuntarily^^  and  convulsively 
clinched. 

V.  But  when  he  came  to  touch  on  the  patience,  the  for- 
giving meekness  of  our  Savior;  when  he  drew,  to  the  life, 
his  blessed  eyes  streaming  in  tears  to  heaven;  his  voice 
breathing  to  God  a  soft  and  gentle  prayer  of  pardon  on  his 
enemies,  "Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do,"  the  voice  of  the  preacher,  which  had  all  along  fal- 
tered, grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until,  his  utterance  being  en- 
tirely obstructed  by  the  force  of  his  feelings,  he  raised  his 
handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  and  burst  into  a  loud  and  irrepress- 
ible flood  of  grief.  The  effect  was  inconceivable.  The  whole 
house  resounded  with  the  mingled  groans,  and  sobs,  and 
shrieks  of  the  congregation. 

8.  It  was  some  time  before  the  tumult  had  subsided  so  far 
as  to  permit  him  to  proceed.  Indeed,  judging  by  the  usual 
but  fallacious^^  standard  of  my  own  weakness,  I  began  to  be 
very  uneasy  for  the  situation  of  the  preacher ;  for  I  could 
not  conceive  how  he  would  be  able  to  let  his  audience  down 
from  the  height,  to  which  he  had  wound^*  them,  without  im- 
pairing the  solemnity  and  dignity  of  his  subject,  or  perhaps 
shocking  them  by  the  abruptness  of  the  fall.  But  the  descent 
was  as  beautiful  and  sublime  as  the  elevation  had  been  rapid 
and  enthusiastic. 


268 


willson's  fourth  readee. 


Past  IV. 


9.  The  first  sentence  with  which  he  broke  the  awful  si- 
lence was  a  quotation  from  Rousseau.  "  Socrates  died  Kke 
a  philosopher,  but  Jesus  Christ  like  a  God."  I  despair  of 
giving  you  any  idea  of  the  effect  produced  by  this  short  sen- 
tence, unless  you  could  perfectly  conceive  the  whole  manner 
of  the  man,  as  well  as  the  peculiar  crisis  in  the  discourse. 
Never  before  did  I  completely  understand  what  Demosthenes 
meant  by  laying  such  stress  on  delivery. 

10.  You  are  to  call  to  mind  the  pitch  of  passion  and  en- 
thusiasm to  which  the  congregation  were  raised ;  and  then, 
the  few  minutes  of  portentous,i^  death-like  silence  which 
reigned  throughout  the  house;  the  preacher  removing  his 
white  handkerchief  from  his  aged  face  (even  yet  wet  from 
the  recent  torrent  of  his  tears),  and  slowly  stretching  forth 
the  palsied  hand  which  holds  it,  as  he  begins  the  sentence, 
"  Socrates  died  like  a  philosopher,"  then  pausing,  raising  his 
other  hand,  pressing  them  both,  clasped  together,  with 
warmth  and  energy  to  his  breast,  lifting  his  "  sightless  balls" 
to  4ieaven,  and  pouring  his  whole  soul  into  his  tremulous 
voice  as  he  continues,  "  but  Jesus  Christ — Hke  a  God !"  K 
he  had  been  in  deed  and  in  truth  an  angel  of  light,  the  effect 
could  scarcely  have  been  more  divine. 


1  Pbe-tee-nat'-u-eal,  unusual;  extraordi- 
nary. 

2  SuEiv'-ELED,  contracted  into  wrinkles. 

3  Pal'st,  a  disease  that  partially  or  wholly 
destroys  voluntary  motion  or  sensation. 

*  As-cee-tain'ed,  showed  ;  made  plain. 
6  Sa€'-ea-ment,  the  Lord's  supper. 

6  Pas'-sion  ipash'-un)^  suffering. 

7  Pa'-thos,  a  manner  that  awakens  tender 
emotions. 

8  "Mrs'-Tio  bym'-bols,"  the  bread  and  wine. 


9  E-nun-ci-a'-tion,  manner  of  speaking. 

10  ujj^  tJ'-Ni-soN,"  in  agreement;  in  har- 
mony. 

11  Btjf'-fet,  a  blow. 

12  In-vol'-un-ta-ei-ly,  without  thought  or 
will. 

13  Fal-la'-ciotjs,  deceptive. 
1*  Wo0NP,  gradually  elevated. 

15  Poe-tent'-ous,    that    which    threatens 
something  ill. 


LESSON  XXI. 

FATHER  WILLIAM. 

1 .  "  You  are  old,  Father  WilHam,"  the  young  man  cried, 
"  The  few  locks  that  are  left  you  are  gray ; 
You  are  hale.  Father  William,  a  hearty  old  man, 
Now  tell  me  the  reason,  I  pray." 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  269 

2.  "  In  the  days  of  my  youth,"  Father  William  replied, 

"  I  remembered  that  youth  would  fly  fast ; 
And  abused  not  my  health  and  my  vigor  at  first, 
That  I  never  might  need  them  at  last." 

3.  "  You  are  old.  Father  WilHam,"  the  young  man  cried, 

"  And  pleasures  with  youth  pass  away ; 
And  yet  you  lament  not  the  days  that  have  gone, 
'Now  tell  me  the  reason,  I  pray." 

4.  "  In  the  days  of  my  youth,"  Father  "William  replied, 

"  I  remembered  that  youth  could  not  last ; 
I  thought  of  the  future,  whatever  I  did. 
That  I  never  might  grieve  for  the  past." 

6.  "  You  are  old.  Father  "William,"  the  young  man  cried, 
"  And  life  must  be  hastening  away ; 
You  are  cheerful,  and  love  to  converse  upon  death, 
Now  tell  me  the  reason,  I  pray." 

6.  "I  am  cheerful,  young  man,"  Father  "William  replied, 
"  Let  the  cause  thy  attention  engage : 
I?i  the  days  of  my  youth  I  remembered  my  God, 
And  he  hath  not  forgotten  my  age.'''' 

SODTHEY. 


LESSON  xxn. 

JOHN  LITTLEJOHN. 

1.  John  Littlejohn  was  stanch  and  strong, 
Upright  and  downright,  scorning  wrong ; 
He  gave  good  weight,  and  paid  his  way, 
He  thought  for  himself,  and  he  said  his  say ; 
"Whenever  a  rascal  strove  to  pass, 
Instead  of  silver,  a  coin  of  brass, 

He  took  his  hammer,  and  said,  with  a  frown, 
"  The  coin  is  spurious,  nail  it  down^'' 

2.  John  Littlejohn  was  firm  and  true. 

You  could  not  cheat  him  in  "  two  and  two ;" 
"When  foolish  arguers,  might  and  main, 
Darkened  and  twisted  the  clear  and  plain. 


270  WILLSON's  fourth  KEADEE.  Part  TV. 

He  saw,  thron^h  the  mazes  of  their  speech, 
The  simple  truth  beyond  their  reach ; 
And  crushing  their  logic,  said,  with  a  frown, 
"  Your  coin  is  spurious,  nail  it  down^ 

3.  John  Littlejohn  maintained  the  right. 
Through  storm  and  shine,  in  the  world's  despite ; 
When  fools  or  quacks  desired  his  vote, 

Dosed  him  with  arguments  learned  by  rote. 
Or  by  coaxing,  threats,  or  promise,  tried 
To  gain  his  support  to  the  wrongful  side, 
"iV«;y,  nay^"*  said  John,  with  an  angry  frown, 
"  Your  coin  is  spurious,  nail  it  doionP 

4.  When  told  that  kings  had  a  right  divine, 
And  that  the  people  were  herds  of  swine. 
That  nobles  alone  were  fit  to  rul6. 

That  the  poor  were  unimproved  by  school, 
That  ceaseless  toil  was  the  proper  fate 
Of  all  but  the  wealthy  and  the  great, 
John  shook  his  head,  and  said,  with  a  frown, 
"  The  coin  is  spurious,  nail  it  down.'''' 

6.  When  told  that  events  might  justify 
A  false  and  crooked  pohcy ; 
That  a  decent  hope  of  future  good 
Might  excuse  departure  from  rectitude ; 
That  a  lie,  if  white,  was  a  small  offense, 
To  be  forgiven  by  men  of  sense, 
"  N^ay,  nay,^"*  said  John,  with  a  sigh  and  a  fi*own, 
*'  The  coin  is  spurious,  nail  it  down?"* 

Chaeles  Mackat. 


LESSON  xxm. 

THE  VISION  OF  MIRZA. 

1.  On  the  fifth  day  of  the  moon,  which,  according  to  the 
custom  of  my  forefathers,  I  always  keep  holy,  after  having 
washed  myself,  and  offered  up  my  morning  devotions,  I  as- 
cended the  high  hills  of  Bagdat,  in  order  to  pass  the  rest  of 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  271 

the  day  in  meditation  and  prayer.  As  I  was  here  airing  my- 
self on  the  .tops  of  the  mountains,  I  fell  into  a  profound  con- 
templation on  the  vanity  of  human  life ;  and,  passing  from 
one  thought  to  another,  "Surely,"  said  I,  "man  is  but  a 
shadow,  and  life  a  dream." 

2.  While  I  was  thus  musing,  I  cast  my  eyes  toward  the 
summit  of  a  rock  that  was  not  far  from  me,  where  I  discover- 
ed one  in  the  habit  of  a  shepherd,  with  a  musical  instrument 
in  his  hand.  As  I  looked  upon  him  he  applied  it  to  his  lips, 
and  began  to  play  upon  it.  The  sound  of  it  was  exceeding 
sweet,  and  wrought  into  a  variety  of  tunes  that  were  inex- 
pressibly melodious,  and  altogether  different  from  any  thing  I 
had  ever  heard.  They  put  me  in  mind  of  those  heavenly  airs 
that  are  played  to  the  departed  souls  of  good  men  upon  their 
first  arrival  in  Paraflise,  to  wear  out  the  impressions  of  the 
last  agonies,  and  quahfy  them  for  the  pleasures  of  that  happy 
place. 

3.  My  heart  melted  away  in  secret  raptures.  I  had  been 
often  told  that  the  rock  before  me  was  the  haunt  of  a  Genius, 
and  that  several  had  been  entertained  with  music,  who  had 
passed  by  it,  but  never  heard  that  the  musician  had  before 
made  himself  visible.  When  he  had  raised  my  thoughts,  by 
those  transporting  airs  which  he  played,  to  taste  the  pleasure 
of  his  conversation,  as  I  looked  upon  him,  like  one  astonished, 
he  beckoned  to  me,  and,  by  the  waving  of  his  hand,  directed 
me  to  approach  the  place  where  he  sat. 

4.  I  drew  near,  with  that  reverence  which  is  due  to  a  su- 
perior nature ;  and,  as  my  heart  was  entirely  subdued  by  the 
captivating  strains  I  had  heard,  I  fell  down  at  his  feet  and 
wept.  The  Genius  smiled  upon  me  with  a  look  of  compas- 
sion and  affabihty  that  familiarized  him  to  my  imagination, 
and  at  once  dispelled  all  the  fears  and  apprehensions  with 
which  I  approached  him.  He  lifted  me  from  the  ground,  and, 
taking  me  by  the  hand,  "  Mirza,"  said  he,  "  I  have  heard  thee 
in  thy  soliloquies  :  follow  me." 

5.  He  then  led  me  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  the  rock,  and, 
placing  me  on  the  top  of  it,  "  Cast  thy  eyes  eastward,"  said 
he,  "  and  tell  me  what  thou  seest."  "  I  see,"  said  I,  "  a  huge 
valley,  and  a  prodigious  tide  of  water  rolling  through  it." 


272  willson's  foubth  eeader,  paet  IV. 

"  The  valley  that  thou  seest,"  said  he,  "  is  the  valley  of  mis- 
ery, and  the  tide  of  water  that  thou  seest  is  part  of  the  great 
tide  of  eternity."  "  What  is  the  reason,"  said  I,  "  that  the 
tide  I  see  rises  out  of  a  thick  mist  at  one  end,  and  again  loses 
itself  in  a  thick  mist  at  the  other?" 

6.  "  What  thou  seest,"  said  he,  "  is  that  portion  of  eternity 
which  is  called  time,  measured  out  by  the  sun,  and  reaching 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  its  consummation.  Ex- 
amine now,"  said  he, "  this  sea,  that  is  thus  bounded  with 
darkness  at  both  ends,  and  tell  me  what  thou  discoverest  in 
it."  "  I  see  a  bridge,"  said  I,  "  standing  in  the  midst  of  the 
tide."  "  The  bridge  thou  seest,"  said  he,  "  is  human  life : 
consider  it  attentively."  Upon  a  more  leisurely  survey  of  it, 
I  found  that  it  consisted  of  threescore  and  ten  entire  arches, 
with  several  broken  arches,  which,  adde4  to  those  that  were 
entire,  made  up  the  number  about  a  hundred. 

7.  As  I  was  counting  the  arches,  the  Genius  told  me  that 
this  bridge  consisted  at  first  of  a  thousand  arches,  but  that  a 
great  flood  swept  away  the  rest,  and  left  the  bridge  in  the 
ruinous  condition  I  now  beheld  it.  "  But  tell  me  farther," 
said  he,  "  what  thou  discoverest  on  it."  *'  I  see  multitudes 
of  people  passing  over  it,"  said  I,  "  and  a  black  cloud  hang- 
ing on  each  end  of  it."  ^ 

8.  As  I  looked  more  attentively,  I  saw  several  of  the  pas- 
sengers dropping  through  the  bridge  into  the  great  tide  that 
flowed  underneath  it ;  and,  upon  farther  examination,  per- 
ceived there  were  innumerable  trap-doors  that  lay  concealed 
in  the  bridge,  which  the  passengers  no  sooner  trod  upon  than 
they  fell  through  them  mto  the  tide,  and  unmediately  disap- 
peared. These  hidden  pitfalls  were  set  very  thick  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  bridge,  so  that  throngs  of  people  no  sooner 
broke  through  the  cloud  than  many  of  them  fell  into  them. 
They  grew  thinner  toward  the  middle,  but  multiplied  and 
lay  closer  together  toward  the  end  of  the  arches  that  were 
entire. 

9.  There  were,  indeed,  some  persons,  but  their  number 
was  very  small,  that  continued  a  kind  of  hobbling  march  on 
the  broken  arches,  but  fell  through,  one  after  another,  being 
quite  tired  and  spent  with  so  long  a  walk.    I  passed  some 


Part  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  273 

time  in  the  contemplation  of  this  wonderful  structure,  and 
the  great  variety  of  objects  which  it  presented. 

10.  My  heart  was  filled  with  a  deep  melancholy  to  see  sev- 
eral dropping,  unexpectedly,  in  the  midst  of  mirth  and  jollity, 
and  catching  by  every  thing  that  stood  by  them  to  save 
themselves.  Some  were  looking  up  toward  the  heavens  in 
a  thoughtful  posture,  and,  in  the  midst  of  a  speculation, 
stumbled  and  fell  out  of  sight.  Multitudes  were  very  busy 
in  the  pursuit  of  bubbles,  that  glittered  in  their  eyes  and 
danced  before  them;  but  often,  when  they  thought  them- 
selves within  the  reach  of  them,  their  footing  failed,  and 
down  they  sunk. 

1 1 .  In  this  confusion  of  objects,  I  observed  some  with  cim- 
eters  in  their  hands,  and  others  with  lancets,  who  ran  to  and 
fro  upon  the  bridge,  thrusting  seve^-al  persons  on  trap-doors 
which  did  not  seem  to  he  in  their  way,  and  which  thej^ 
might  have  escaped  had  they  not  been  thus  forced  upon 
them. 

12.  The  Genius,  seeing  me  indulge  myself  in  this  melan- 
choly prospect,  told  me  I  had  dwelt  long  enough  upon  it. 
"  Take  thine  eyes  off  the  bridge,"  said  he,  "  and  tell  me  if  thou 
yet  seest  any  thing  thou  dost  not  comprehend."  Upon  look- 
ing up,  "  What  mean,"  said  I,  "  those  great  flights  of  birds 
that  are  perpetually  hovering  about  the  bridge,  and  settling 
upon  it  from  time  to  time  ?  I  see  vultures,  harpies,  ravens, 
cormorants,  and,  among  many  other  feathered  creatures,  sev- 
eral little  winged  boys,  that  perch,  in  great  numbers,  upon 
the  middle  arches." 

13.  "These,"  said  the  Genius,  "are  Envy,  Avarice,  Super- 
stition, Despau",  Love,  with  the  like  cares  and  passions  that 
infest  human  life."  I  here  fetched  a  deep  sigh.  "Alas!" 
said  I,  "  man  was  made  in  vain !  how  is  he  given  away  to 
misery  and  mortality !  tortured  in  life,  and  swallowed  up  in 
death !"  The  Genius,  being  moved  with  compassion  toward 
me,  bid  me  quit  so  uncomfortable  a  prospect.  "Look  no 
more,"  said  he,  "  on  man  in  the  first  stage  of  his  existence,  in 
his  setting  out  for  eternity,  but  cast  thine  eye  on  that  thick 
mist,  into  which  the  tide  bears  the  several  generations  of 
mortals  that  fall  into  it." 

M2 


274  WILLSON's  fourth  reader.  Part  IV. 

14.  I  directed  my  sight  as  I  was  ordered,  and,  whether  or 
no  the  good  Genius  strengthened  it  with  any  supernatural 
force,  or  dissipated  part  of  the  mist,  that  was  before  too  thick 
for  the  eye  to  penetrate,  I  saw  the  valley  opening  at  the  far- 
ther end,  and  spreading  forth  into  an  immense  ocean,  that 
had  a  huge  rock  of  adamant  running  through  the  midst  of  it, 
and  dividing  it  into  two  equal  parts.  The  clouds  still  rested 
on  one  half  of  it,  insomuch  that  I  could  discover  nothing  hi 
it ;  but  the  other"  appeared  to  me  a  vast  ocean,  planted  with 
innumerable  islands,  that  were  covered  with  fruits  and  flow- 
ers, and  interwoven  with  a  thousand  little  shining  seas,  that 
ran  among  them. 

15.  I  could  see  persons  dressed  in  glorious  habits,  with  gar- 
lands upon  their  heads,  passing  among  the  trees,  lying  down 
by  the  sides  of  fountains,  or  resting  on  beds  of  flowers ;  and 
could  hear  a  confused  harmony  of  singing  birds,  falling  wa- 
ters, human  voices,  and  musical  instruments.  Gladness  grew 
in  me  upon  the  discovery  of  so  delightful  a  sc.ene.  I  wished 
for  the  wings  of  an  eagle,  that  I  might  fly  away  to  those  hap- 
py seats ;  but  the  Genius  told  me  there  was  no  passage  to 
them  except  through  the  gates  of  death,  that  I  saw  opening 
every  moment  upon  the  bridge. 

16.  "  The  islands,"  said  he,  "  that  lie  so  fresh  and  green  be- 
fore thee,  and  with  which  the  whole  face  of  the  ocean  appears 
spotted,  as  far  as  thou  canst  see,  are  more  in  number  than 
the  sands  on  the  sea-shore.  There  are  myriads  of  islands 
behind  those  which  thou  here  discoverest,  reaching  farther 
than  thine  eye  or  even  thine  imagination  can  extend  itself. 
These  are  the  mansions  of  good  men  after  death,  who,  ac- 
cording to  the  degrees  and  kinds  of  virtue  in  which  they  ex- 
celled, are  distributed  among  these  several  islands,  which 
abound  with  pleasures  of  diftcrent  kinds  and  degrees,  suita- 
ble to  the  relishes  and  perfections  of  those  who  are  settled  in 
them.  Every  island  is  a  paradise  accommodated  to  its  re- 
spective inhabitants. 

17.  "Are  not  these,  oh  Mirza,  habitations  worth  contending 
for?  Does  life  appear  miserable,  that  gives  thee  opportuni- 
ties of  earning  such  a  reward  ?  Is  death  to  be  feared,  that 
will  convey  thee  to  so  happy  an  existence  ?     Think  not  man 


Paiit  IV.  MISCELLANEOUS.  215 

was  made  in  vain,  who  has  "such  an  eternity  reserved  for 
him."  I  gazed  with  inexpressible  pleasure  on  those  happy 
islands.  At  length,  said  I,  "  Show  me  now,  I  beseech  thee, 
the  secrets  that  lie  under  those  dark  clouds  that  cover  the 
ocean  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock  of  adamant." 

18.  The  Genius  making  me  no  answer,  I  turned  about  to 
address  myself  to  him  a  second  time,  but  I  found  that  he  had 
left  me.  I  then  turned  again  to  the  vision  which  I  had  been 
so  long  contemplating;  but,  instead  of  the  rolling  tide,  the 
arched  bridge,  and  the  happy  islands,  I  saw  nothing  but  the 
long,  hollow  valley  of  Bagdat,  with  oxen,  sheep,  and  camels 
grazing  upon  the  sides  of  it.  Addison. 


LESSON  XXIV. 
CHRIST'S  SECOND  COMING. 

1.  The  Lord  shall  come !    The  earth  shall  quake. 
The  mountains  to  their  centre  shake ; 

And,  withering  from  the  vault  of  night. 
The  stars  shall  pale  their  feeble  light. 
The  Lord  shall  come !  a  dreadful  form. 
With  rainbow  wreath  and  robes  of  storm, 
On  cherub  wings,  and  wings  of  wind. 
Appointed  Judge  of  all  mankind. 

2.  Can  this  be  He,  who  wont  to  stray 
A  pilgrim  on  the  world's  highway, 
Oppress'd  by  power,  and  mock'd  by  pride, 
The  Nazarene — the  crucified  ? 

While  sinners  in  despair  shall  call, 
"  Rocks,  hide  us ;  mountains,  on  us  fall !" 
The  saints,  ascending  from  the  tomb, 
Shall  joyful  sing,  "The  Lord  is  come!" 

3.  "And  they  said  to  the  mountains  and  rocks,  Fall  on  u?, 
and  hide  us  from  the  face  of  him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne, 
and  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb :  for  the  great  day  of  his 
wrath  is  come,  and  who  shall  be  able  to  stand  ?" — Rev.,  vi., 
16,17. 


276 


willson's  fourth  reader. 


Part^^ 


PART   Y. 

FIEST  DIVISION  OF  KATUEAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

[This  subject  is  continued  in  the  Fifth  Reader.] 

LESSON  L 


THE  SCHOOL  AT  GLENWILD. 
1.  In  the  delightful  retreat  of  Glen  wild,  near  a  small  vil- 
lage in  one  of  the  middle  states  of  our  Union,  resided  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Maynard,  who  had  a  select  family  school  of  some 
twenty  pupils.  A  leading  object  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  M.  in 
opening  the  school  was  the  education  of  their  own  children, 
who  were  Master  Edward,  a  lad  of  nine  years,  Charles,  a  lad 
of  eleven,  and  Ella,  their  only  daughter,  who  had  just  entered 
her  fourteenth  year.  • 


1st  Div.  OF NATTTKAL  PHILOSOPHY.  277 

2.  The  building  occupied  as  the  school  and  dwelling-house 
was  a  venerable^  mansion,  built  in  the  old  Dutch  style,  with 
gambreP  roof  and  dormer^  windows,  and  a  wide  piazza  ex- 
tending the  whole  length  of  the  side  of  the  house,  where  was 
the  main  entrance.  A  beautiful  lawn  spread  out  in  front, 
bordered  on  the  left  by  a  rivulet  from  the  hills,  which  formed 
a  pretty  waterfall  where  it  entered  the  glen  below,  while  on 
the  right  a  sturdy  oak,  that  had  probably  withstood  the 
storms  of  five  hundred  winters,  lifted  its  gnarled'^  but  still 
luxuriant  branches  to  the  sky. 

3.  In  the  background,  groves  of  chestnut  and  maple,  skirt- 
ing the  hills,  were  reUeved  by  the  deeper  green  of  an  occa- 
sional towering  pine  or  hemlock ;  a  quiet  stream,  which  mod- 
ern geographers  have  not  even  deigned  to  notice,  but  which 
was  known  in  that  region  as  "  The  River,"  wound  its  peace- 
ful way  through  meadow-lands  in  a  long  line  of  silvery  bright- 
ness ;  and  from  both  sides  of  the  valley  arose  undulating^ 
highlands,  stretching  away  to  the  southward  in  gentle  ridges, 
and  blending,  in  the  distance,  into  the  bolder  outlines  of  the 
AUeghanies. 

4.  The  most  charming  nook  in  all  this  secluded  and  peace- 
ful valley  was  Glen  wild,  situated  just  above  the  point  where 
"  The  River"  enters  a  wild  and  rocky  glen ;  and  this  delight- 
ful spot  Mr.  Maynard  had  chosen  for  his  home,  and  his  family 
school;  and  here,  partially  withdrawing  himself  from  the 
busy  world,  he  devoted  all  the  energies  of  a  powerful  and 
well-trained  intellect  to  the  business  of  educating  his  own 
children,  and  a  few  others  committed  to  his  care. 

5.  Mr.  Maynard  was  a  teacher  who  really  loved  his  youth- 
ful charge ;  and  this,  combined  with  the  vast  fund^  of  infor- 
mation which  he  possessed,  and  the  delight  which  he  took  in 
imparting''  knowledge  to  the  young,  was  doubtless  the  reason 
why  he  was  so  beloved  by  his  pupils.  A  consistent  Chris- 
tian, he  was  also  a  devoted^  student  of  Nature,  reading  les- 
sons of  wisdom  in  all  her  works ;  and  he  had  the  peculiar 
faculty  of  inspiring  others  with  a  portion  of  his  own  enthusi- 
asm for  the  pursuits  of  science. 

6.  This  model  man  and  teacher  was  the  almost  constant 
companion  of  his  pupils,  to  whom  nothing  was  more  delight- 


278  WILLSOn's  fourth  reader.  Part  v. 

ful  than  to  be  told  all  they  wished  to  know ;  and  he  who 
joined  them  in  their  pastimes,^  who  accompanied  them  in 
their  rambles,  who  flew  their  kites,  helped  construct  their 
water-wheels  and  wind-mills,  who  artfully  drew  forth  and 
answered  all  the  thousand  and  one  questions  of  prattling,  in- 
quisitive childhood,  was  the  loved  and  guardian  genius  of  the 
little  group. 

7.  In  such  a  school,  and  with  such  a  teacher,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  the  branches  studied,  even  by  the  younger  pu- 
pils, were  numerous  and  important,  and  such  as  are  often 
deemed  tedious  and  uninviting  by  those  who  have  merely  the 
barren  tree  of  knowledge  presented  them,  stripped  of  both 
fruit  and  foliage.  But  Mr.  M.  did  not  limit  his  educational 
views  and  labors  to  the  duties  of  the  school-room.  The  va- 
rious plans  which  he  suggested  to  his  pupils  for  their  hours 
of  recreation  were  wisely  designed  for  opening  to  their  view 
some  of  the  most  interesting  fields  of  knowledge. 

8.  It  was  in  the  various  departments  of  natural  history, 
especially,  that  the  pupils  of  Mr.  Maynard  found  a  fund  of 
combined  information  and  amusement  that  tasked^ ^  all  their 
energies  without  ever  wearying  them.  Nature  was  to  them 
a  vast  bazar^i — ^  curiosity  shop  from  which  they  had  col- 
lected a  miniature^^  Q^ie  of  their  own.  They  knew  at  sight 
the  kinds  of  trees  that  grew  in  the  woodlands  around,  and 
could  tell  both  their  botanical  and  their  common  names ;  not 
a  flower  did  they  pass  in  their  rambles  without  inquiring  of 
their  teacher  its  name  and  properties ;  and  each  had  collected 
a  neat  herbarium' ^  of  his  own ;  and  from  the  stream,  the 
glen,  and  the  hill-side,  they  had  made  a  handsome  collection 
of  specimens  for  a  geological  cabinet. 

9.  They  could  tell  the  names  and  characteristics  of  all  the 
songsters  that  warbled  in  the  neighboring  groves,  and  of  the 
fish  that  filled  the  streams ;  while  the  thousand  insects  that 
sported  in  the  summer  air  were,  to  them,  objects,  not  of  an- 
noyance or  curiosity  merely,  but  of  rational  amusement  and 
instruction;  and  their  numerous  entomologicaP*  specimens 
would  have  done  credit  to  older  naturalists  than  they  were. 
How  surprising  it  is  that  all  teachers  do  not  cultivate  for 
their  own  gratification,  .and  instruct  their  pupils  in  a  science 


1st  Div.  OF NATURAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


279 


so  rich  in  interest,  so  abundant  in  ready  materials  for  its 
prosecution,  and  so  impressive  of  the  lesson  that  we  live  "  in 
a  bright  and  breathing  world." 

10.  Like  all  things  else,  a  walk  of  a  summer's  evening  was 
turned  to  profitable  account.  Nothing  could  be  more  inter- 
esting to  these  children  than  to  listen  to  the  mysteries  of  the 
heavens,  as  they  were  unfolded^^  by  their  beloved  teacher. 
And  as  they  learned  the  names,  distances,  and  revolutions  of 
some  of  the  visible  planets,  were  they  not  taking  lessons  in 
the  sublime  science  of  astronomy  ?  And  while,  with  new- 
born rapture,  they  gazed  upon  "  the  multitude  of  the  heaven- 
ly host, 

''Forever  singing  as  they  shine, 
The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine,^'' 

what  question  was  more  naturally  suggested  to  their  inquiring 
minds  than  this :  "  Who  made  them  allf''  And  what  would 
be  more  likely  to  direct  their  thoughts  upward  from  Nature 
to  Nature's  God  ? 

11.  But  we  must  close  our  description.  "With  a  teacher 
whose  whole  soul  was  imbued^*^  with  science — prodigaP'  of 
his  intellectual  wealth — "  his  bounty  boundless  as  the  sea,  his 
love  as  deep" — what  branch  of  useful  knowledge  would  be 
neglected  in  his  constant  intercourse  with  his  pupils  ?  Every 
object  in  nature,  however  seemingly  insignificant — it  might 
be  a  blade  of  grass,  an  insect's  wing,  a  dew-drop,  or  a  mote 


that  floats  in  the  sunbeam — would  elicit^^  in 


quny. 


awaken 


thought,  and  lead  to  the  explanation  of  interesting  truths  in 
philosophy ;  for  those  who  early  form  habits  of  constant  ob- 
servation, and  cultivate  an  inquiring  state  of  mind,  will  find 

' '  Books  in  the  running  brooks,  sermons  in  stones, 
And  good  in  every  thing." 


Ven'-er-a-ble,  deserving  of  respect  on  ac- 
count of  its  age  and  appearance. 
Gam'-beel,  having  a  double  roof  on  each 
side. 

Dor'-mee,   a  window  placed  in  a  small 
gable  in  the  roof. 
Gnael'ed,  knotty  ;  full  of  knots. 
Un'-du-la-ting,  rising  and  falling ;  hav- 
ing a  wavy  outline. 
Fund,  abundance. 
Im-paet'-ino,  communicating. 
Ue-vOt'-kd,  ardent;  zealous. 
Pa8'-tTme»,  sports ;  amusements. 


10  Task'ed,  called  into  exercise. 

1 1  Ba-zae',  market-place ;  store-house. 

12  Min'-i-a-toee,  one  on  a  small  scale. 

13  Her-ba'-ei-um,  a  collection  of  plants  care- 
fully dried  and  preserved. 

1*  EN-TO-MO-T.OfV-i€-Ai.,  pertaining  to  the 
science  of  insects. 

15  UN-FOLt>'-Ei>,  explained ;  displayed. 

16  Im-bu'ep,  filled  with ;  tinged  or  colored 
deeply,  as,  to  imhtie  cloth. 

17  Prod'-i-g.*l,  using  freely;  lavish. 

18  K-Lic'-iT,  call  foi'th. 


280 


wlllson's  fourth  reader. 


Part  V. 


LESSOK  II. 
THE  VOLUNTEER  PHILOSOPHY  CLASS. 


George. 


Mr.  Maynard. 

John. 


Frank. 


1.  *'  'Happy  the  man,  who,  studying  Nature's  laws, 

Through  known  eflfects  can  trace  the  secret  cause.* 

"  Who  was  the  author  of  these  two  lines  ?"  said  Mr.  May- 
nard to  five  intelligent  and  attentive  pupils,  who  had  request- 
ed him  to  meet  them  every  Saturday  morning  for  the  pur- 
pose of  instruction  m  Natural  Philosophy.  This  volunteer 
philosophy  class  was  composed  of  three  boys  and  two  girls, 
who  had  solicited^  from  him  the  favor  of  an  hour's  extra  in- 
struction once  a  week. 

2.  The  request  was  most  cheerfully  complied  with  by  the 
kind  preceptor,  who  was  never  weary  of  the  company  of  wis- 
dom-loving scholars.  The  class  consisted  of  Masters  Franks 
George^  and  John^  and  Misses  Ida  and  Ella.     Frank  had  al- 


281 

ways  lived  in  a  city,  and  had  the  name  of  being  a  good  Latin 
scholar  for  a  lad  of  fifteen.  George,  who  was  the  son  of  a 
farmer  near  Glenwild,  was  fourteen  years  old,  and  was  called 
good  at  figures,  while  John,  whose  father  was  a  miller  some 
miles  up  the  valley,  had  astonished  the  gazing  rustics  by  the 
ingenious  contrivances  he  had  introduced  into  a  model  mill, 
constructed  by  his  own  hands  before  he  was  thirteen  years 
of  age.     He  was  now  seventeen. 

3.  Ida,  who  was  fifteen,  had  studied  philosophy  at  a  fash- 
ionable boarding-school,  where  they  had  a  new  and  easy  con- 
veyance up  the  hill  of  science,  something  after  the  style  of  a 
sedan  chair,  in  which  she  had  paid  her  fare.  Ella,  as  we  have 
said,  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Maynard,  and,  from  her  famil- 
iarity with  various  pieces  of  apparatus,  had  gained  many  ideas 
of  the  study  which  she  now  for  the  first  time  engaged  in ;  but 
she  thought  herself  but  a  beginner,  as  her  first  lesson  had  not 
yet  been  recited. 

4.  "  Who  was  the  author  of  the  lines  I  just  repeated  ?"  said 
Mr.  M.  "  Virgil  said  about  tlie  same  thing,"  replied  Frank. 
"  Kight,"  said  the  teacher ;  "  and  the  study  is  no  less  pleas- 
ing to  boys  and  girls  than  to  men,  and  no  less  pleasing  now 
than  it  was  two  thousand  years  ago.  Yes,  Virgil  was  right. 
The  study  that  leads  to  the  explanation  of  the  general  prop- 
erties^  of  bodies,  and  the  laws  which  they  obey,  is  most  de- 
lightful. 

5.  " The  wordphilosophy,''^  continued  Mr.  Maynard,  "means 
a  love  of  wisdom  or  hnowledge;  and  one  who  consistently  ap- 
plies himself  to  acquire  it  is  2,  philosopher^  or  lover  of  knowl- 
edge. Like  Norval's  father, '  whose  constant  care  was  to  in- 
crease Jiis  store,' the  student  of  philosophy  should  constantly 
seek  to  know  the  causes  of  things. 

6.  "As  all  our  knowledge  of  things  around  us  is  derived^ 
through  the  medium*  of  the  senses — seeing^  feeling^  hearing^ 
tasting^  and  smelling^  and  we  may  add  lifting — the  advice 
of  Brutus  to  the  Romans, '  Awake  your  senses,  that  you  may 
the  better  judge,'  applies  to  those  who  would  study  philoso- 
phy. They  should  be  accurate  observers  of  Nature ;  and  in 
the  boundless  field  which  Nature  opens  they  will  find  abund- 
ant materials  to  interest  and  instruct  them. 


282  WILLSON's  fourth   READ:ftR.  Part  V. 

7.  "  But  let  me  explain  to  you,  my  youug  pupils,  the  nature 
of  the  study  we  are  about  to  engage  in.  We  shall  have  to 
learn  why  the  balloon  rises  in  the  air,  as  well  as  why  the  div- 
ing-bell sinks  in  the  water ;  how  images  are  reflected  from 
mirrors,  or  permanently  fixed  on  metal  or  paper  by  the  pho- 
tographer f  why  water  rises  in  a  common  pumjD,  or  is  thrown 
by  engines  on  the  blazing  building ;  how  invisible  wonders 
are  revealed  by  the  microscope,  and  the  myriads  of  stars,  un- 
seen by  the  naked  eye,  appear  by  aid  of  the  telescope ;  how, 
by  the  same  wind,  vessels  can  sail  in  opposite  directions; 
what  turns  the  needle  toward  the  pole,  or  conveys  intelligence 
with  lightning  speed;  the  causes  of  clouds  and  rainbows;  of 
winds,  and  dew,  and  rain ;  of  thunder  and  of  lightning.  The 
barometer,  the  thermometer,  and  the  various  instruments  of 
modern  scientific  investigation  will  also  claim  our  attention." 

8.  Here  Miss  Ida  ventured  to  remark  that  she  had  often 
seen  the  expression,  "the  charms  of  Nature,"  and  had  always 
supposed  the  study  of  Nature  was  more  poetical  than  philo- 
sophical— that  it  treated  of  such  things  as  beautiful  scenery, 
and  birds,  and  flowers,  .and  winding  streams,  and  cooling 
fountains ;  and  that,  while  it  was  a  very  pleasant  and  agreea- 
ble study,  it  was  not  particularly  useful. 

9.  "I  am  not  surprised,"  said  Mr.  Maynard,  "that  you 
should  have  entertained^  this  view  of  the  study  of  Nature, 
for  it  is  the  view  most  frequently  expressed  in  poetry ;  but  it 
is  only  a  partial  view  of  that  great  subject.  We  shall  find, 
as  Hamlet  expresses  it,  that  '  there  are  more  things  in  heav- 
en and  earth  than  are  dreamed  of  in  our  philosophy,'  if  our 
knowledge  of  Nature  has  been  limited  to  its  outward  as- 
pects,^ to  the  neglect  of  the  great  principles  and  l^ws,  of 
which  the  '  charms  of  Nature'  that  you  speak  of  are  merely 
the  outward  expression." 

10.  Ida  did  not  seem  fully  to  understand  these  remarks, 
and  Mr.  Maynard  continued  :  "  It  will  afibrd  me  much  pleas- 
ure to  illustrate  the  truths  of  philosophy  by  many  pleasing 
and  instructive  experiments,  as  we  meet  from  time  to  time. 
I  will  assign  you  a  subject  for  our  next  interview,  and  hope 
you  will  find  out  all  you  can  about  it  from  any  books  you 
may  have  on  Philosophy,  as  well  as  from  conversation  with 


tst  Div.  OF NATURAL  PHILOSOPFY. 


283 


your  schoolmates  and  others.  In  order  to  aid  you  in  your 
pleasant  task,  I  will  allow  you  to  examine  any  books  in  my 
own  library,  and  I  assure  you  you  will  find  much  interesting 
matter  for  our  conversations  in  books  not  called  Philosophies. 
Our  first  topic  will  be  the  Properties  of  Matter^'' 

11.  With  this  introductory  explanation  of  the  nature  of 
the  subject,  Mr.  Maynard  dismissed  his  pupils,  who,  however, 
stopped  a  short  time  on  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  building, 
talking  over  various  topics  which  his  remarks  had  suggested. 
Then  they  separated  to  make  preparations  for  the  enjoyment 
of  their  Saturday's  holiday.  Ida  and  Ella,  accompanied  by 
Frank,  and  Ella's  younger  brothers  Edward  and  Charles, 
were  going  down  the  glen  to  gather  wild  flowers;  and  John 
and  George  were  going,  as  usual,  to  their  respective  homes 
to  pass  the  Sabbath,  and  return  to  school  on  the  Monday  fol- 
lowing. 


>  So-lTo'-it-et>,  earnestly  requested. 

2  Pkop'-ee-ties,  the  peculiar  or  essential 
qualities  of  a  thing;  thus,  extension  and 
figure  are  properties  of  bodies. 

3  Db-bivkd',  received ;  obtained. 


*  Me'-di-tim,  the  means  or  instrument. 

5  Pno-TOG'-RA-niER,  one  who  takes  pictnr 
by  the  daguerreotype. 

6  En-tkr-tain'ed,  had ;  had  in  mind- 

7  A8'-PE€TS,  appearances. 


LESSON  III. 

THE  PROPERTIES  OF  MATTER. 

1.  Satitrdat  morning  having  arrived,  the  members  of  our 
Volunteer  Philosophy  Class  were  again  assembled  in  the  li- 
brary at  the  hour  appointed.  As  they  had  frequently  talked 
over  the  subject  of  the  lesson  with  each  other  during  the 
week,  and  had  found  some  difiiculties  attending  it,  the  re- 
marks of  the  teacher  were  looked  forward  to  with  much  in- 
terest. Mr.  Maynard,  having  requested  them  to  be  seated, 
thus  began : 

2.  Mr.  M.  Strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  my  young  pupils, 
some  learned  men  have  denied  the  existence  of  every  kind  of 
matter  whatever.  Berkeley,  the  ingenious  Bishop  of  Cloyne, 
whose  portrait  is  conspicuous  in  the  Trumbull  Gallery  of 
Paintings  in  Yale  College,  was  one  of  those  philosophers  who 
in  earnest  argument  denied  that  there  is  any  matter.  Of 
him  Byron  wrote, 


284  willson's  fourth  reader.  part  v. 

"When  Bishop  Berkeley  said,  'There  was  no  matter,' 
And  proved  it,  'twas  no  matter  what  he  said." 

3.  I  have  heard  of  the  following  sensible  answers  to  two 
important   questions.     '''What   is   matter P     Never   mind. 

What  is  mindf    JVb  matter, ^^     But  who  will  answer  the 
question,  "  What  is  matter  ?" 

4.  Ida.  All  things  which  we  see  or  feel  are  composed^  of 
matter. 

Mr.  M.  That  is  doubtless  true,  and  yet  it  is  hardly  a  defini- 
tion. It  is  difficult  to  define  matter  in  few  words,  but  we  may 
say  it  is  the  substance  of  which  all  bodies  are  composed.  It 
may  exist  either  in  the  form  of  a  solid,  as  ice,  or  in  a  liquid 
state,  as  water,  or  in  a  gaseous  condition,  as  steam,  and  yet 
be  the  same  matter.  Can  you  think  of  any  matter  that  does 
not  occupy  some  space  ? 

5.  John.  I  can  not.  I  was  thinking  the  other  day  of  the 
space  occupied  by  the  finest  particle  of  the  finest  flour ;  that 
it  must  be  somethiiig,  since  enough  of  these  particles  may  be 
collected  to  fill  a  barrel  or  freight^  a  ship. 

Mr.  31.  And  did  it  occur  to  you,  John,  that  what  you  call 
a  particle  of  the  finest  flour  is  itself  composed  of  millions  of 
atoms,  of  which  there  are  at  least  three  different  kinds  in  the 
fine  flour  dust'  ? 

John.  I  can  not  think  of  atoms  so  small  as  they  must  be. 

6.  Mr.  M.  I  hope  that  before  you  leave  this  school  you  will 
be  able  to  think  of  the  atoms  of  the  flour  dust,  and  not  only 
that,  but  think  of  an  atom  of  one  kind  as  being  eight  times 
the  weight  of  an  atom  of  another  kind.  Science^  will  enable 
us  to  weigh  the  atoms,  invisible*  though  they  are,  in  relative 
terms ;  and  also  to  weigh  the  earth,  moon,  planets,  comets, 
and  even  the  sun.  But  if  every  atom  of  matter  must  occupy 
some  space,  can  two  atoms  occupy  the  same  space  at  the  same 
time'? 

7.  George.  Ko,  sir ;  and  is  not  this  the  very  property  call- 
ed in  the  books  impenetrability  ?^ 

Mr.  3f.  It  is ;  and  the  property  of  occupying  some  space  is 
called  extension.  As  without  these  two  properties  we  can 
form  no  idea  of  matter,  they  are  said  to  be  inseparable  or  es- 
sential properties.     Tell  me  why  the  water  does  not  rise  in 


1st  Div.  OF NATURAL  PHILOSOPHT.  285 

the  inverted^  tumbler  which  I  plunge  beneath  the  surface  of 
water  in  the  basin. 

8.  John.  Because  the  tumbler  is  filled  with  air,  which  is 
one  kind  of  matter,  and  also  owing  to  the  principle  of  impene- 
trability; for  water  and  air  can  not  occupy  the  same  space 
at  the  same  time.  I  saw  a  boy  who  had  just  entered  a  drug 
store  as  assistant  attempt  to  fill  a  bottle  through  a  closely- 
fitting  funnel  '^  but  the  liquid  rose  up  in  the  funnel,  and 
would  not  run  into  the  bottle  till  he  attempted  to  withdraw 
the  funnel,  when  it  was  quickly  emptied.  I  think  that  must 
have  been  a  dear  experiment  to  him,  as  the  liquid  was  a  strong 
acid,  which  ruined  his  clothes,  as  it  ran  over  the  bottle  on  the 
removal  of  the  funnel. 

9.  Mr.  M.  Yes,  that  illustrated  the  impenetrability  of  air  to 
the  liquid ;  and  very  probably,  if  you  had  seen  the  conclusion 
of  the  dear  experiment,  you  would  have  witnessed  the  break- 
ing of  the  bottle  by  the  efibrt  to  force  into  the  neck  a  close- 
ly-fitting cork  when  the  bottle  was  already  full ;  and  this 
would  have  afibrded  an  illustration^  of  the  impenetrability  of 
a  liquid  to  a  solid. 

George.  I  think  the  boy  should  have  taken  a  few  lessons  in 
philosophy  before  entering  upon  such  a  Jo7^^7osopA^c«^  business. 

10.  Mr.  M.  All  ice  do  is  in  accordance  with,  or  in  violation 
of  philosophical  principles,  many  of  which  we  shall  discuss  in 
these  conversations.  Whenever  we  succeed,  or  have  good 
luck,  it  is  because  we  observe  those  principles ;  and  when  we 
fail,  it  is  because  we  violate  them,  or  act  in  ignorance  of  their 
existence.  There  are  other  properties,  which  do  not  seem 
essential  to  our  ideas  of  matter,  and  which  are  nevertheless 
general  properties  of  matter,  or,  as  they  are  sometimes  called, 
accidental  properties.  These  are  divisibility^^ porosity ^'^^  in- 
ertia,^^Jigure,  and  attraction. 

11.  Ida.  I  learned  these  as  essew^za/  properties  of  matter. 
Mr.  M.  It  may  not  be  of  much  importance  to  us  now  to 

discuss  that  point,  but  can  you  not  think  of  an  atom^  or  in- 
divisible particle  ?  If  so,  divisibility  is  not  an  essential  prop- 
erty ;  for  matter  may  exist  without  being  divisible. 

Frank.  I  have  been  puzzled  to  know  what  is  meant  in  the 
books  by  such  words  as  atom^  Tnolecule^"^  and  particle. 


286  willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  v. 

12.  Mr.  M.  I  am  glad  you  have  asked  the  question;  for 
the  most  important  thing  in  starting  is  to  know  what  we  are 
talking  about,  and  I  urge  you  always  to  obtain  clear  defini- 
tions of  terms.  The  word  atom  means  any  thing  that  can 
not  be  cut  or  divided.  It  is  the  smallest  part  of  a  body.  A 
number  of  atoms  form  a  molecule^  and  a  number  of  molecules 
form  a  particle.  Please  remember  this.  I  now  desire  to 
hear  from  each  of  you  the  most  surprising  instance  of  division 
of  matter  that  you  have  been  able  to  find. 

13.  Ida.  A  single  grain  of  musk  will  perfume  a  room  for 
many  years  and  still  be  a  grain  of  musk.  I  suppose,  wherever 
the  musk  is  perceived,  there  must  be  particles  enough  to  af- 
fect the  sense  of  smell. 

Ella.  The  thread  of  a  spider's  web,  which  I  can  scarcely 
see,  is  composed  of  6000  single  threads,  according  to  the 
books,  though  I  do  not  know  how  any  body  can  see  and 
count  them. 

14.  Frank.  One  grain  of  carmine^^  will  tinge  ten  pounds  of 
water  so  that  the  color  may  be  seen.  I  have  also  read  that  two 
grains  of  silk  have  been  spun  into  a  thread  300  yards  in  length. 

John.  A  single  grain  of  gold  has  been  divided  into  three 
million  six  hundred  thousand  parts,  each  visible  through  a 
microscope  magnifying  500  times. 

George.  Dogs  pursue  their  game  by  means  of  odors  im- 
perceptible^'^ by  man,  and  I  suppose  these  odors  must  consist 
of  very  minute  atoms  or  particles  of  matter  difiiised  through 
the  air. 

Franh.  There  is  another  interesting  example  o^ practical 
divisibility  which  I  had  forgotten  to  mention.  I  have  seen 
it  stated  that  artists,  aided  by  the  microscope,  have  ruled 
parallel  lines  upon  glass,  with  a  diamond  point,  so  close  to 
each  other  that  ten  thousand  are  contained  in  a  single  inch. 

15.  Mr.  M.  Your  examples  are  well  chosen.  I  will  name 
but  a  single  one.  Ehrenberg  has  found  the  shells  of  animals 
so  small  that  the  one  hundred  and  forty-fourth  part  of  a  cubic 
inch  contained  twenty-three  millions  of  them !  These  ani- 
mals must  have  had  limbs,  and  blood  circulating  through  their 
tiny  veins,  and  this  blood  was  doubtless  itself  compounded 
of  various  kinds  of  molecules,  each  itself  composed  of  atoms. 


1st  DiV.  OF NATUEAL  PHILOSOPHY.  287 

16.  Johyi.  It  seems  scarcely  possible  that  real  live  animals 
so  small  can  exist ! 

Mr.  31.  When  we  take  up  the  study  of  the  "  Microscopic 
World"  we  shall  find  stranger  things  than  these  to  excite  our 
wonder.  The  next  property  of  matter  is  porosity.  What  do 
you  understand  by  it  ? 

JoJui.  It  is  the  quahty  or  state  of  having  pores  or  openings 
in  it.  It  means  that  the  particles  of  matter  are  not  close  to- 
gether, and  the  farther  apart  they  are,  the  more  porous  is  the 
substance.     It  is  the  opposite  o^  density. ^^ 

17.  Mr.  M.  Very  well;  and  now  each  of  you  may  give  an 
example  of  porosity. 

Ida.  I  have  seen  mercury  forced  through  the  pores  of  oak, 
and  faU  in  a  fine  shower.  That  showed  that  the  oak  was 
porous  or  full  of  small  holes. 

Ella.  We  can  put  a  large  quantity  of  cotton  into  a  tum- 
bler completely  ^^^66?  with  spirits  of  wine,  and  none  of  the 
liquid  will  overflow. 

Joh7i.  Salt  can  be  put  into  water  without  increasing  its 
bulk.  This  shows  that  the  particles  of  water  are  not  close 
together,  and  that  there  is  room  between  them  for  the  salt. 

18.  Frank.  A  pint  of  alcohol  and  a  pint  of  water  will  not 
make  a  quart  of  mixture.  I  think  this  must  be  due  to  poros- 
ity also. 

George.  I  have  read  that  there  are  innumerable  small  pores 
in  the  skin,  through  which  insensible  perspiration  passes. 

3Ir.  M.  It  is  evident  that  if  there  were  no  porosity^  and 
the  particles  of  matter  were  already  close  together,  they  could 
not  be  brought  any  closer  together  by  pressure.  Matter  is 
therefore  said  to  have  the  property  of  compressihility.^^ 

Frank.  Can  matter  in  all  of  its  three  forms,  solid.,  liquid., 
and  gaseous^  be  compressed  ? 

19.  Mr.  M.  It  can,  though  water  is  compressible  only  in  a 
slight  degree  compared  with  air.  Matter  in  every  form  can 
also  be  expanded  by  heat.  •  But  I  perceive  we  shall  not  have 
time  to  finish  the  subject  of  the  properties  of  matter  during 
the  hour,  and  we  will  therefore  leave  the  remaining  topics 
for  our  next  conversation.  In  the  mean  time  you  will  recol- 
lect that  on  next  Saturday  we  are  to  talk  about  the  remain- 


288 


willson's  fourth  header. 


Part  V. 


ing  general  or  accidental  properties  of  matter,  which  are  in- 
ertia^ figure^  and  attraction ;  and  if  we  have  time  we  shall 
also  call  your  attention  to  the  specific  properties  of  matter. 
I  will  not  mention  now  what  these  properties  are,  but  hope 
each  of  you  will  find  out,  and  learn  what  you  can  about 
them. 


1  €om-po$'ed,  formed ;  made  of. 

2  Freight  {/rate),  to  load  with  goods. 

3  ScT'-ENCE,  knowledge  ;  a  collection  of  the 
general  principles  or  leading  truths  relat- 
ing to  any  subject. 

*  In-vi$'-i-ble,  that  can  not  be  seen. 

5  Im-pen-e-tea-bil'-i-ty,  that  quality  of 
matter  by  which  it  excludes  all  other  mat- 
ter from  the  space  it  occupies. 

6  In-veet'-ed,  turned  upside  down. 

7  Fxm'-NEL,  a  tunnel. 

8  Il-lus-tba'-tion,  that  which  explains  or 
renders  any  thing  more  clear. 


9  Di-vis-i-bil'-i-tt,  the  quality  of  being  di- 
JO  Po-Eos'-i-TY.  [visible. 

11  In-ee'-tia  (in-er'-shd). 

12  Mol'-e-€Cle  (or  Mole'-€ule),  a  name 
given  to  the  minute  particles  of  bodies. 

13  tJAB'-MiNE,  a  beautiful  red  color. 

1*  Im-per-oep'-ti-ble,  that  can  not  be  per- 
ceived by  the  senses. 

15  Dens'-i-ty,  closeness  or  compactness  of 
parts. 

16  Com-peess-i-bil'-i-ty,  the  quality  of 
being  brought  into  a  smaller  compass  by 
pressure. 


LESSON  IV. 

THE  PROPERTIES  OF  MATTER— Continued. 

1.  The  class  having  assembled  in  the  library  as  usual,  Mr. 
Maynard  asked  John  if  he  could  describe  that  property  of 
matter  called  hiertia. 

John.  It  is  that  property  by  which  matter  tends  to  retain 
its  present  state,  whether  of  motion  Or  rest. 

Mr.  M.  True,  that  is  the  scientific  definition ;  but  can  you 
show  me  that  you  understand  the  subject  by  giving  illustra- 
tive examples  of  inertia? 

2.  John.  Our  mill  never  starts  till  some  one  lets  the  water 
on  the  wheel,  and  thus  sets  it  in  motion. 

George.  It  is  always  harder  for  the  horses  to  start  a  load- 
ed wagon  than  to  draw  it  when  in  motion. 

Frank.  I  have  seen  a  boy  standing  up  in  a  cart  fall  back- 
ward when  the  cart  was  suddenly  put  in  motioo,  and  I  think 
this  must  be  due  to  the  inertia  of  the  boy. 

3.  Ida.  I  was  once  thrown  from  a  horse  by  his  starting 
suddenly  forward. 

Ella.  Inertia  is  certainly  a  very  accidental  property,  for  I 
was  once  thrown  over  a  horse's  head,  from  his  suddenly  stop- 
ping when  I  had  been  riding  rapidly. 

4.  Mr.  M.  A  knowledge  of  the  inertia  of  matter  should  make 


1st  DiV.  OF NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY.  289 

US  cautious  how  we  suddenly  change  our 

condition,  either  of  motion  or  rest.     I  will 

show  by  experiment  the  inertia  of  a  brass 

ball;    I  place  a  stiff  card  on  a  pillar,  and 

then,  by  means  of  a  spring,  I  drive  the  card 

from  under  the  ball  which  was  resting  upon 

it.    The  ball  will  be  found  on  the  pillar, 

from  which  the  card  has  been  removed. 

Fig.  1.  Whatever  tends  to  change  the  state  of 

matter,  whether  of  rest  or  motion,  is  called  force.     There  is 

also  a  property  of  matter  0,2!^^^  figure.     Can  you  tell  me 

what  is  meant  by  it  ? 

5.  Frank.  I  understand  it  to  mean  form^  as  all  matter 
must  have  some/brw  or  shape. 

Mr.  M.  True ;  and  many  bodies  have  forms  peculiar  to 
themselves,  such  as  crystals.  You  perhaps  recollect  having 
seen  crystals  of  common  salt ;  and  they  are  always  cubical,  or, 
as  you  might  call  them,  square  blocks.  Liquids  have  no  pe- 
culiar form,  but  assume^  that  of  the  vessel  containing  them. 
Attraction  is  another  general  property  of  matter.  Some- 
times weighty  which  is  one  kind  of  attraction,  is  called  a  dis- 
tinct property;  but  we  refer  it  to  its  proper  place.  Who 
will  define  attraction? 

6.  Ida.  It  is  that  quality  in  the  particles  of  bodies  which 
makes  them  tend  toward  each  other. 

Mr.  M.  I  would  prefer  the  words  atoms  and  masses  to 
particles^  as  they  will  include  all  kinds  of  attraction,  from 
that  called  chemical  to  that  called  gravitation  or  weight. 
Attraction  has  received  different  names  from  the  different 
circumstances  under  which  it  manifests^  itself.  Attraction 
between  atoms  is  called  chemical  affinitii^  between  m^olcr 
cules^  it  is  termed  cohesion^  and  between  masses,  gramtor 
tion.  There  is  also  a  modification  of  attraction  called  ad- 
hesion,^ and  another  known  as  capillarity.'^  Besides,  there 
is  electrical  attraction,  which  will  be  hereafter  explained. 
George,  can  you  tell  me  why  this  pencil  falls  to  the  floor  ? 

7.  George.  The  pencil  is  a  mass  and  the  floor  is  a  mass ; 
and  the  pencil  must  fall  toward  the  greater  mass  by  the 
force  of  gravitation. 

N 


290  willson's  fo¥eth  reader.  Fast  V. 

Mr.  M,  Very  well ;  but  you  must  remember  that  there  are 
two  whys^  or  two  causes — a  primary  and  a  secondary,  or  an 
intelligent  and  a  physical  cause.  The  secondary  or  physical 
cause  is  gravitation,  or  a  property  to  which  we  give  this 
name ;  but  the  intelligent  cause  is  nothing  less  than  the  "  vo- 
lition^ of  Deity."  Besides  these  there  are  specific  properties 
of  matter,  as  I  mentioned  in  our  last  conversation.  Can  any 
one  of  you  tell  what  they  are  ? 

8.  Ella.  I  have  learned  from  the  books  in  the  library  that 
there  are  such  properties  as  hardness,  elasticity,®  flexibility,^ 
brittleness,^  malleability,^  ductility,!^  and  tenacity  -^^  but  I  do 
not  exactly  understand  why  they  are  called  specific  properties. 

9.  Mr.  M.  If  you  will  reflect  a  moment  that  specific  means 
that  which  distinguishes  one  kind  from  another,  I  think  you 
will  perceive  that  the  term  is  a  very  appropriate  one;  for 
those  properties  which  you  mentioned  do  not  belong  in  the 
same  degree  to  all  kinds  of  matter.  Inertia  belongs  as  much 
to  one  kind  of  matter  as  to  another,  and  it  is  therefore  a  gen- 
eral property  of  matter ;  but  does  hardness  belong,  in  the 
same  degree,  to  all  kinds  of  matter  ? 

10.  Ella.  Oh  no.  I  see  the  difference  now.  Some  bodies 
are  much  harder  than  others,  and  therefore  hardness  is  a  spe- 
cific property  of  matter ;  but  inertia  is  a  general  property,  be- 
longing alike  to  all. 

Mr.  M.  This  illustrates  the  importance  of  understanding 
the  precise  meaning  of  terms.  Will  some  one  tell  me  the 
name  of  the  hardest  body  known  ? 

Frank.  The  diamond. 

Mr.  M.  What  bodies  are  elastic? 

Ella.  India-rubber,  and  steel  springs. 

1 1 .  Mr.  M.  And  all  other  bodies  to  a  certain  extent,  though, 
some  possess  so  little  elasticity  that  they  are  called  non-elas- 
tic. Air  is  perhaps  the  most  perfectly  elastic  substance ;  but 
we  have  been  using  a  term  before  defining  it.  What  do  you 
understand  by  elasticity  ? 

12.  E2la.  The  property  by  which  bodies,  when  their  form 
has  been  changed,  endeavor  to  recover  their  original  shape. 

Mr.M.  What  is  the  difference  hQiwQQu  fisxibility  and  hrit- 
tkness? 


1st  DlV.  OP NATUEAL  PHILOSOPHY.  291 

George.  When  a  body  readily  yields  or  bends  under  a  force 
applied  to  it,  it  is  said  to  be  flexible;  but  if,  instead  of  bend- 
ing, it  breaks,  it  is  brittle. 

13.  John.  I  have  seen  knives  and  other  tools  very  brittle 
when  new,  but  very  flexible  when  they  had  been  heated,  and 
have  heard  people  say  they  had  lost  their  temper. 

Mr.  M.  Yes ;  when  a  piece  of  steel  is  heated,  and  then  slow- 
ly cooled,  it  is  flexible ;  but  if  cooled  suddenly,  it  is  brittle. 
You  can  try  this  experiment  by  heating  and  cooling  a  needle. 

14.  John.  I  recollect  my  father  had  a  quantity  of  iron 
wire  which  he  could  not  use  because  it  Avas  so  brittle,  and 
that  he  heated  it  red-hot,  and  cooled  it  slowly.  I  think  he 
called  it  annealing .^"^ 

15.  Mr.  M.  That  is  the  name  of  the  process.  Glass  can  be 
annealed ;  and  the  value  of  glassware  depends  much  on  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  cooled.  Malleability  is  the  property 
which  allows  bodies  to  be  hammered  or  rolled  into  thin  sheets. 
Do  you  know  what  is  the  most  malleable  substance  ? 

16.  George.  Gold  is  considered  the  most  malleable. 

Mr.  M.  And  what  is  most  ductile,  or  can  be  drawn  to  the 
finest  wire  ? 

FranJc.  Platinum^^  jj^s  been  drawn  into  finer  wire  than 
any  other  substance  I  ever  heard  of. 

11.  Mr.M.  What  is  tenacity  ? 

Franh.  I  believe  the  word  is  derived  from  the  Latin  word 
teneo.^  I  hold ;  and  if  so,  it  must  mean  the  property  of  hold- 
ing together. 

Johyi.  I  think  I  have  heard  that  iron  is  the  most  tenacious 
of  the  metals. 

18.  Mr.  M.  Yes ;  iron  wire  is  so  tenacious  that  when  only 
the  sixteenth  of  an  inch  in  diameter  it  will  support  540 
pounds,  while  a  similar  wire  of  lead  will  only  sustain  27 
pounds.  The  tenacity  of  iron  makes  it  valuable  in  the  con- 
struction of  suspension  bridges  and  other  structures. 

19.  Here  Mr.  Maynard  remarked  that,  although  their  hour 
had  not  quite  expired,  he  would  close  this  conversation,  as  he 
had  promised  to  accompany  a  number  of  the  younger  pupils 
in  a  long  ramble  immediately  after  dinner,  for  the  purpose  of 
aiding  them  in  making  a  map  of  the  stream  which  flowed 


292 


willson's  foubth  reader. 


Part  V. 


through  the  valley.     He  informed  the  class  that  the  subject 
of  their  next  conversation  would  be  Motion"  and  its  Laws. 

20.  The  means  which  Mr.  Maynard  adopted  for  interesting 
his  pupils  in  a  great  variety  of  subjects  of  study  were  Avisely 
contrived  for  combining  amusement  and  instruction.  With 
a  view  to  such  results,  the  excursion  referred  to  had  been 
planned  for  his  younger  pupils;  and  by  such  means  they 
were  early  grounded  in  the  principles  of  geographical  knowl- 
edge, and  interested  in  learning  more  of  a  subject  whose  very 
rudiments  had  proved  to  them  a  delightful  recreation. 

21.  Thus,  before  his  youthful  pupils  were  aware  that  they 
were  studying  geography,  they  could  tell  the  direction  by 
the  compass,  and  the  distance  from  the  old  mansion,  of  every 
grove,  fountain,  and  hillock  for  two  miles  around,  the  wind- 
ings of  the  stream  which  flowed  through  the  valley,  the  va- 
rious ravines  which  entered  the  glen  below,  and  could  accu- 
rately trace  on  a  slate  or  paper  a  map  of  the  whole,  the 
boundaries  of  the  estate  on  which  they  resided,  and  a  profile 
outline  of  the  hills  which  separated  their  little  world  of  tran- 
quil beauty  from  the  great  and  noisy  world  around  them. 

22.  But  they  had  visited  many  of  the  neighboring  villages 
beyond  the  hills,  and  could  locate^'*'  them  also ;  and  as  they 
inquired  about  distant  cities  and  coimtries,  and  read,  or  heard 
related,  interesting  accounts  of  them  and  their  people,  they 
not  only  learned  more  of  geography,  but  began  the  acquisi- 
tion of  historical  knowledge.  Thus,  though  secluded^^  for  a 
while  from  the  noisy  scenes  of  life,  they  were  taught  that,  if 
their  lives  should  be  spared,  they  were  soon  to  mingle  with 
the  moving  throng,  and  that  the  duties  of  life  required  of 
them  a  knowledge  of  that  world  on  whose  stage  of  action 
they  were  soon  to  enter. 


1  As-sCme',  take  the  form  of. 

2  Man'-i-fests,  shows ;  exhibits. 

3  Ad-he'-sion,  the  act  or  state  of  sticking. 

*  €ap-il-lar'-i-ty,  the  attraction  of  a  fluid 
up  a  small  tube. 

5  Vo-Li"-TiON,  will. 

6  E-LA8-Tio'-i-TY  (860  dcf  by  Ella). 

'  Flex-i-bil'-i-ty,  the  qualitj'  of  admitting 
to  be  bent. 

8  Reit'-tle-ness,  aptness  to  bo  broken. 

9  MAL-i.E-A-Bn/-i-TY,  that  property  of  bod- 
ies which  renders  them  capable  of  being 
extended  by  heating. 


10  Du€-TiL'-i-Ty,  that  property  of  bodies 
which  renders  them  capable  of  being  ex- 
tended by  draimmj  without  breaking. 

11  Tk-nao'-i-tv,  that  property  of  bodies 
which  keeps  them  from  being  parted  with- 
out considerable  force. 

12  An-neat,'-ing,  the  process  of  applying 
heat  for  removing  brittlcness. 

13  I*lat'-i-num,  the  heaviest  of  the  metals. 
1*  Lo'-cate,  determine  the  place  of;   ar- 
range on  a  map. 

'5  Sk-clO'-ded,  shiit  out;  living  in  retire- 
ment. 


1st  Div.  OF NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


LESSOIsT  V. 
MOTION  AND  ITS  LAWS. 

1.  Mr.  M.  When  Plato,  an  ancient  philosopher,  was  asked 
for  a  definition  of  motion,  he  is  said  to  have  arisen,  and  to 
have  walked  back  and  forth  in  the  presence  of  his  interro- 
gators,^ as  much  as  to  say,  "You  see  it,  but  I  can  not  tell 
you."     Who  of  you  will  define  motion  9 

Ida.  Motion  is  a  continued  change  of  place  with  regard  to 
a  fixed  point. 

2.  Mr.  M.  I  would  prefer  to  call  motio7i  simply  t/ie  act  of 
changitig  place^  and  consider  it  the  condition  of  matter  op- 
posed to  rest.  It  is  enough  for  our  purpose,  however,  that 
we  understand  the  usual  meaning  of  the  term.  Can  you  de- 
fine uniform  motion  f 

John.  When  a  body  passes  over  equal  spaces  in  equal 
successive  portions  of  time,  its  motion  is  called  uniform. 

3.  Mr.  M.  Very  well ;  now  tell  me  when  it  is  accelerated,^ 
and  when  retarded.^ 

John.  When  the  spaces  passed  over  in  equal  times  contin- 
ually increase,  the  motion  is  called  accelerated;  and  when 
such  spaces  decrease,  it  is  called  retarded ;  as  a  stone  thrown 
up  in  the  air  is  retarded  in  ascending,  and  accelerated  in  de- 
scending. 

4.  Mr.  M.  A  good  definition,  and  I  think  you  understand 
it.     Can  you  define  velocity  f 

George.  It  is  the  swiftness  of  the  motion,  and  is  measured 
by  the  space  passed  over  in  a  given  time. 
Mr.  M.  Now  tell  me  what  momentum'^  is. 

5.  George.  Momentum  is  the  quantity  of  motion,  and  is 
the  product^  of  the  quantity  of  matter  by  the  velocity. 

Mr.  M.  If  that  is  so,  a  small  body  moving  swiftly  may 
have  as  much  momentum  as  a  large  one  moving  slowly. 

George.  Yes,  sir.  A  32-pound  ball,  moving  1000  feet  in 
a  second,  will  have  as  much  momentum  as  a  battering-ram 
weighing  2000  pounds,  and  moving  16  feet  in  a  second. 

6.  Mr.  M.  I  am  pleased  to  see  you  so  promptly  make  the 
practical  calculations  illustrative  of  the  principles  of  motion. 


294  WILLSON's  fourth  reader.  Part  v. 

Suppose  you  were  on  the  deck  of  a  steam-boat  going  north 
at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour,  and  that,  when  you  were  in 
the  same  straight  line  with  two  trees  on  shore,  you  were  to 
run  toward  the  stern  of  the  boat  with  a  speed  of  ten  miles  an 
hour,  would  you  change  position  in  respect  to  the  trees  ? 

7.  John.  Certainly  not ;  for  in  the  time  occupied  in  run- 
ning south,  the  boat  would  have  advanced  as  far  north  as  the 
space  I  passed  over,  and  I  should  have  remained  at  the  same 
point  in  space. 

Ella.  Running  ten  miles  an  hour  and  standing  still  at  the 
same  time  is  strange  enough.     How  is  it  explained  ? 

8.  Mr.  M.  The  motion  was  absolute^  in  regard  to  the  hoat^ 
but  not  in  respect  to  the  trees  on  the  shore.  If  you  had  re- 
mained at  the  same  place  on  the  boat,  you  would  have  been 
in  motion  in  relation  to  objects  on  shore ;  and  if  you  had 
started  from  the  stern  of  the  boat  and  run  in  the  direction 
of  the  boat's  motion  with  the  velocity  stated,  you  would 
have  been  going  twenty  miles  in  respect  to  the  trees,  and  ten 
miles  in  respect  to  the  boat. 

9.  George.  This  seeming  paradox"^  of  motion  and  rest^  or 
rest  and  motion^  or  motion  twenty  and  te^i  miles  at  the  same 
time,  seems  very  plain  to  me  when  y,  e  use  the  terms  relative- 
ly, or  in  comparison  with  other  bodies. 

10.  Mr.  M.  If  now  you  all  understand  what  is  meant  by 
uniform^  accelerated^  retarded^  absolute^  and  relative  motion, 
as  I  think  you  do,  I  will  only  add  that  we  do  not  know  of 
any  thing  in  a  state  of  absolute  rest.  The  earth  on  which 
we  live  is  in  rapid  motion  around  the  sun,  and  the  sun  itself 
is  in  motion  around  some  central  body,  which,  for  aught  we 
know,  is  itself  revolving  around  some  remote  centre. 

There  are  three  principles  of  motion,  known  as  Newton's 
Laws.     Can  you  tell  me  the  first  ? 

11.  FranJc.  "Every  body  continues  in  its  state  of  rest,  or 
of  uniform  motion  in  a  straight  line,  unless  acted  upon  by 
some  external  force."  This,  I  suppose,  means  that  a  body  at 
rest  can  not  put  itself  in  motion,  and  that  a  body  in  motion 
can  not  stop  itself. 

John.  Then  every  thing  at  rest  must  always  continue  so 
unless  moved  by  some  force;    and  every  thing  in  motion 


1st  DiV.  OF NATUEAL   PHILOSOPHY.  295 

must  always  continue  moving  unless  stopped  by  some  resist- 
ance. 

12.  Mr.M.  You  understand  the  exact  meaning  of  the^rs^ 
law  ;  now  what  forces  tend  to  put  bodies  in  motion,  and  what 
to  stop  them  ? 

Joh7i.  MiUs  are  put  in  motion  by  horse-power,  water-power, 
wind-power,  and  steam-power ;  so  I  would  call  the  n).omentum 
of  falling  water,  or  of  moving  air,  or  the  muscular  power  of 
animals,  or  the  expansive  force  of  steam,  moving  powers,  or 
forces.  Bodies  in  motion  are  stopped  by  the  rubbing  to- 
gether of  the  surfaces  in  contact,  and  by  the  weight  of  the 
parts  that  have  to  be  lifted. 

13.  Mr.  M.  That  is,  they  are  stopped  by  friction^  and 
gravity}^  George,  can  you  give  me  the  second  law  of  mo- 
tion? 

George.  "  Change  of  motion  is  proportional  to  the  force 
impressed,^^  and  is  in  the  direction  of  the  line  in  which  that 
force  acts."  When  I  load  my  gun  with  a  charge  adapted  to 
the  distance  I  wish  to  shoot,  and  aim  in  the  direction  of  the 
object  I  wish  to  hit,  I  act  upon  the  second  law  of  motion^ 
and  did  so  before  I  ever  heard  of  such  a  law. 

14.  3Ir.  M.  I  hope  you  would  not  insinuate  that  you  are 
no  wiser  for  your  pains  in  learning  the  law  you  have  repeat- 
ed so  correctly.  I  am  very  glad  the  Laws  of  Newton,  as  they 
are  called,  are  self-evident  to  you,  and  I  shall  expect  to  hear 
some  very  sensible  replies  from  you  to  the  questions  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  ask  in  the  course  of  these  lessons.  There 
is  another  law  for  Frank  to  state  and  illustrate. 

15.  Franh.  "Action  and  reaction  are  equal,  and  in  opposite 
directions."  If  I  understand  what  it  means,  it  is  that  when 
I  pull  the  reins  in  riding,  I  push  as  much  as  I  pidl. 

George.  If  that  is  the  case,  how  does  he  stop  the  horse  ? 

16.  Franh.  Allow  me  to  suggest  that  the  soft  reins  do  not 
hurt  my  hands  as  much  as  the  same  force,  exerted  by  the 
small  and  hard  bit,  hurts  the  horse's  mouth ;  so  he  concludes 
to  stop. 

Mr.  M.  A  very  sage  conclusion,  truly ;  but  teU  me,  Frank, 
if  you  were  sitting  in  the  stern  of  a  boat,  and  pulling  by  a 
rope  attached  to  the  bow,  could  you  move  the  boat  ? 


296 


Paet  V. 


17.  Frank,  As  the  j!9i^s/im^  and  ^?^m^  would  be  equal,  no 
motion  would  be  produced. 

Mr,  M,  K  this  string  which  I  take  from  the  table  can  sus- 
tain just  seventy-five  pounds  before  parting,  and  Ida  and 
Ella  can  each  pull  seventy  pounds,  can  they  two  break  the 
string  while  pulling  in  oj^posite  directions  ? 

18.  Ida.  Yes,  sir,  we  should  break  the  string  with  our 
united  force  of  140  pounds. 

Ella,  No,  sir;  the  string  will  only  be  pulled  with  a  force  of 
seventy  pounds,  just  the  same  as  if  the  other  end  were  attach- 
ed to  a  hook  in  the  wall,  instead  of  being  held  by  Ida's  hand. 

19.  Mr,  M.  Most  certainly  you  could  ?io^  break  the  string, 
for  the  two  forces  act  in  opposite  directions,  and  one  may  be 
called  action^  and  the  other  reaction.  When  Ella  pulls  with 
a  force  of  seventy  pounds,  Ida  merely  sustains  that  force,  the 
same  as  though  her  end  of  the  string  were  fastened  to  the 

^^—  1;  wall.     If  I  pull  a  string 

^^^-  ^-  The  picture  I  now  show 

you  will  illustrate  the  principles  of  the  three  laws,  and  give 
you  some  idea  of  momentum. 

20.  George,  Will  you  have  the  kindness,  Mr.  Maynard,  to 
give  us  such  familiar  examples  as  occur  to  you  to  illustrate 
the  laws  of  motion  ? 

Mr,  M.  With  the  greatest  pleasure.  I  will  relate  to  you 
some  from  Dr.  Arnott's  interesting  book  on  Physics : 

21.  If  a  man  in  one  boat  pull  at  a  rope  attached  to  another, 
the  two  boats  will  approach.  If  they  be  of  equal  size  and 
load,  they  will  both  move  at  the  same  rate,  in  whichever  of 
the  boats  the  man  may  be ;  and  if  there  be  a  difference  in  the 
sizes  and  resistances,  there  will  be  a  corresponding  difference 
in  the  velocities,  the  smaller  boat  moving  the  faster. 


1st  Div.  OF NATUEAL  PHILOSOPHY.  29*^ 

22.  A  magnet  and  a  piece  of  iron  attract  each  other  equal- 
ly, whatever  disproportion  there  may  be  between  the  masses. 
K  the  two  were  hanging  near  each  other  as  pendulums,  they 
would  approach  and  meet ;  but  the  little  one  would  perform 
more  than  half  of  the  journey. 

23.  A  man  in  a  boat  pulling  a.  rope  attached  to  a  large 
ship  seems  only  to  move  the  boat ;  but  he  really  moves  the 
ship  a  little ;  for,  supposing  the  resistance  of  the  ship  to  be 
just  a  thousand  times  greater  than  that  of  the  boat,  a  thou- 
sand men  in  a  thousand  boats,  pulling  simultaneously^^  {^i  the 
same  manner,  would  make  the  ship  meet  them  half  way. 

24.  A  pound  of  lead  and  the  earth  attract  each  other  with 
equal  force,  but  that  force  makes  the  lead  approach  sixteen 
feet  in  a  second  toward  the  earth,  while  the  contrary  mo- 
tion of  the  earth  is,  of  course,  as  much  less  than  this  as 
the  earth  is  weightier  than  one  pound,  and  is  therefore  un- 
noticed. Speaking  strictly,  it  is  true  that  even  a  feather  fall- 
ing lifts  the  earth  toward  it,  and  that  a  man  jumping  kicks 
the  earth  away. 

25.  He  was  a  foolish  man  who  thought  he  had  found  the 
means  of  commanding  always  a  fair  wind  for  his  pleasure- 
boat  by  erecting  an  immense  bellows  in  the  stern.  The  bel- 
lows and  sails  acted  against  each  other,  and  there  was  no  mO' 
tion.  Indeed,  in  a  perfect  calm,  there  would  be  a  little  back- 
ward motion,  because  the  sail  would  not  catch  all  the  wind 
from  the  bellows.  If  he  had  turned  the  bellows  around,  and 
blown  astern,^^  he  might  have  moved  his  boat  a  little. 

26.  A  ship  in  chase,  by  firing  her  bow  guns,  retards  her 
motion  ;  by  firing  from  her  stern  she  quickens  it. 

A  ship,  firing  a  broadside,  heels  or  inclines  to  the  opposite 
side. 

A  man  pushing  against  the  ground  with  a  stick  is  pushed 
up  as  much  as  he  pushes  down. 

27.  When  a  child  cries,  on  knocking  his  head  against  a  tar 
ble  or  pane  of  glass,  it  is  common  to  tell  him,  and  it  is  true, 
that  he  has  given  as  hard  a  blow  as  he  has  received,  although 
his  philosophy  probably,  looking  chiefly  to  results,  blames  the 
table  for  his  head  hurt,  and  his  head  for  the  glass  broken. 

28.  "When  one  biUiard  ball  strikes  directly  another  ball  of 

isr2 


298  WILLSON's  FOUKTH  EEADEE.  Part  V. 

equal  size,  it  stops,  and  the  second  ball  proceeds  with  the 
whole  velocity  which  the  first  had,  the  action  which  imparts 
the  new  motion  being  equal  to  the  reaction  which  destroys 
the  old. 

29.  But  these  examples  are  quite  sufficient  for  our  pur- 
pose. It  only  remains  in  this  conversation  to  explain  the 
laws  of  reflected  motion^  and  what  is  called  the  composition 
of  forces^  or  compound  motion. 

30.  If  a  ball  be  dropped  perpendicularly  on  a  smooth  pave- 
ment, it  will  rebound  to  a  certain  point  in  the  same  straight 
line  in  which  it  descended ;  but  if  it  be  thrown  in  some  other 
direction  against  the  pavement,  it  will  not  rise  in  a  perpendic- 
ular line,  but  in  a  line  having  the  same  degree  of  obHquity^* 
as  that  in  which  it  struck  the  pavement. 

31.  Thus,  if  the  ball  were  dropped  from  a  to  the  pavement 
a,       at  J,  its  upward  course  would  be  in  the  same  line,  ha; 

\        /    but  if  it  be  thrown  in  the  line  c  b,  it  will  rebound  in 

\  /     the  line  b  d.     In  this  case  the  angle  formed  by  the 

"  B        line  c  by  with  the  line  a  b,  is  called  the  "  angle  of  in- 

Fig-  3.    cidence,"  and  that  formed  by  the  line  d  J,  with  the 

line  a  5,  "  the  angle  of  reflection ;"  and  it  is  to  be  observed 

that  these  angles  will  always  be  precisely  equal. 

32.  There  are  many  interesting  things  about  the  composi- 
tion of  forces,  some  of  which  may  be  illustrated  by  the  two 

diagrams  which  I  show  you.     If  two  forces 

«   of  equal  intensity,  but  in  opposite  directions, 

act  upon  a  given  point,  that  point  will  remain 

motionless.     But  if  the  two  forces  act  at  a?^ 

^^s^^  angle  to  ea,ch  other,  a  motion  is  produced  that 

is  called  the  residtant  of  the  two  forces.    Perhaps,  JohnJ  you 

can  explain  the  principle  from  these  two  diagrams. 

33.  John.  I  think  I  can.  If  I  understand  the  composition 
of  forces,  a  ball  at  a  acted  on  by  forces  moving  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  arrows',  w411  in  each  case  be  driven  to  d.  In  Fig.  4, 
however,  the  forces  are  unequal  in  intensity,^^  one  being  rep- 
^^__»^j»^*;^^^^     resented  by  the  line  a  c,  and  the-  other  by 

"^ — .1.-^-^^^^^^**  the  line  a  b.     But  in  Fig.  5  the  forces  ap- 
Fig.  6.  pear  to  be  equal.* 

•  On  the  same  principles  wo  can  determine  the  common  resultant  of  many  forces  act- 


IstDlV.  OF NATURiLL   PHILOSOPHY.  299 

34.  Mr.  M.  I  believe  you  correctly  understand  the  theory. 
The  operations  of  every-day  life  afford  numerous  examples  of 
the  motion  resulting  from  a  composition  of  forces.  If  we  at- 
tempt to  row  a  boat  directly  across  a  rapid  river,  the  action 
of  the  oars  and  the  action  of  the  current  will  result  in  a  diag- 
onal motion  down  the  stream.  In  the  science  of  projectiles, 
or  of  gunnery,  it  is  necessary  to  take  into  consideration  not 
only  the  force  exerted  by  the  powder,  but  of  gravity,  or  the 
earth's  attraction,  also ;  for  the  cannon  ball  must  take  the  di- 
rection of  what  is  called  the  resultant  of  these  two  forces. 
This,  however,  brings  us  to  the  consideration  of  our  next  sub- 
ject, which  is  Gravity  and  Falling  Bodies  ;  and  on  that 
you  may  prepare  yourselves  for  our  next  conversation. 

35.  Here  Master  John  remarked  that  Natural  Philosophy 
was  a  most  delightful  study,  because  it  led  the  mind  to  think 
about  almost  every  thing. 

"  And  to  think  with  some  satisfaction,  too,"  said  George, 
"  because  it  puts  one  in  the  way  of  learning  real  truths  about 
things ;  and  I  think  nothing  is  so  satisfactory  as  truthP 

"  I  would  like,"  said  Ella,  "  to  learn  the  truth  about  every 
thing  in  nature." 

"  That  is  a  very  large  wish,"  said  Frank,  "  for  it  seems  to 
me  to  be  a  wish  to  know  every  thing." 

"  And  that,"  said  John,  "  is  what  Deity  alone  can  know." 

36.  This  was  leading  to  quite  a  long  discussion  upon  the 
nature  of  truth,  when  Mr.  Maynard  suggested  that  it  might 
be  well  to  postpone^^  the  consideration  of  that  subject  until 
they  came  to  the  departments  of  Mental  and  Iforal  Philoso- 
phy, which  they  would  find  treated  in  their  Sixth  Reader. 
The  class  then  separated,  and  the  several  members  proceed- 
ed to  make  preparations  for  their  afternoon's  rambles,  which 


Ing  on  a  point.  Two  of  the  forces  are  first  taken,  and 
their  resultant  found.  This  resultant  is  combined 
with  the  third  force,  and  a  second  resultant  found. 
This  again  is  combined  with  the  fourth  force,  and  so 
on,  until  the  forces  are  exhausted.  The  final  resultant 
represents  the  conjoint  action  of  all. 

Thus,  let  there  be  three  forces  applied  to  the  point  ff, 
represented  in  intensity  and  direction  by  the  lines  a  &, 
a  c^  ad,  respectively.  If  a  6  and  a  c  be  combined,  they 
give  as  their  resultant  a  e ;  and  if  this  resultant,  a  c,  be 
combined  with  the  third  force,  a  d,  the  resultant  will  be 
n  /,  which,  therefore,  represents  the  common  action  of 
all  three  forces. 


!^J 


300 


willson's  fourth  reader. 


Part  V. 


were  so  planned  by  their  teacher  as  to  have  in  view  the  ac- 
quisition of  new  truths  in  some  of  the  departments  of  Natu- 
ral History. 


1  In-teb'-eo-ga-toe8,  those  who  ask  ques- 
tions. 

2  A€-cel'-eb-a-tei>,  quickened  in  motion, 

3  Re-tabd'-bd,  hindered;  delayed  in  mo- 
tion. 

*  Mo-ment'-ttm,  the  quantity  of  motion  in  a 
moving  body. 

5  Peod'-uct,  here  means  the  result  obtain- 
ed by  multiplying  the  quantity  of  matter 
by  the  velocity. 

«  Ab'-80-ltjte,  positive ;  real ;  not  relative^ 

'  Pae'-a-dox,  something  seemingly  absurd 
but  true  in  fact. 

8  Ex-teen'-al,  outward ;  exterior. 


9  Fei€'-tion,  the  act  of  rubbing  the  surface 
of  one  body  against  that  of  another. 

10  Gbav'^^-ty,  weight;  the  tendency  of  a 
body  toward  the  centre  of  the  earth. 

11  iM-PEESs'jED,  exerted  ;  made  to  act, 

12  Si-mul-ta'-ne-ou8-ly,  at  the  same  time. 

13  A-stebn',  from  the  stern  or  hinder  part ; 
backward, 

1*  Ob-liq'-tji-ty,  deviation  from  a  perpen- 
dicular line, 

15  In-tens'-i-ty,  degi'ee  of  violence,  energy, 
or  power. 

16  Post-pone',  put  off;  defer. 


LESSON  VI. 
GRAVITY  AND  FALLING  BODIES. 

1.  While  the  class  were  on  their  way  to  the  library,  Miss 
Ida  remarked  that  it  was  so  pleasant  out  of  doors  that  morn- 
ing she  wished  Mr.  Maynard  would  give  them  their  lesson 
under  the  old  oak-tree  on  the  lawn.  This  suggestion  was 
very  favorably  received  by  the  class,  and  on  arriving  at  the 
library,  and  making  known  their  wishes  to  Mr.  Maynard  that 
he  would  give  them  an  out-door  lesson,  he  very  cheerfully 
complied  with  their  request.  So  they  all  proceeded  to  the 
oak-tree,  where  Mr.  Maynard  took  his  seat  in  a  chair  Avhich 
Frank  had  brought  for  him,  and  the  others  on  the  rustic 
benches  which  were  placed  there. 

2.  Mr.  M.  On  the  ground  you  observe  acorns  which  have 
fallen  from  the  tree  above  us.  Will  you  tell  me  why  they 
very  appropriately  suggest  the  consideration  of  the  subject 
of  gravity  ? 

Ella.  Because  in  falling  from  the  tree  to  the  earth  they 
have  illustrated  the  great  law  of  falling  bodies ;  and  if  there 
had  been  no  such  law  as  gravity,  they  would  have  been  just 
as  likely  to  go  upward  as  downward. 

3.  Frank.  I  have  another  reason  to  give.  I  have  seen  it 
stated  that  while  Newton  was  sitting  alone  in  his  garden,  the 
falling  of  an  apple  from  a  tree  suggested  the  inquiry,  "  Why 
did  the  ajpple  fall  .^'*  and  that  this  trifling  circumstance  led 


1st  Div.  OP NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY.  301 

to  his  great  discovery  of  the  laws  of  gravity,  and  of  their  ap- 
plication to  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  I  think 
these  acorns  very  naturally  suggest  a  similar  inquiry. 

Mr.  M,  Reminded,  by  these  evidences  around  us,  of  the 
constant  operation  of  the  laws  of  gravity,  we  will  begin  our 
lesson.  In  our  last  conversation  John  gave  the  example  of  a 
stone  thrown  upward  as  an  illustration  of  retarded  and  accel- 
erated motion.  Can  he  now  explain  the  cause  of  the  increase 
of  velocity  in  descending  ? 

4.  John.  I  have  read  that  every  body  or  mass  of  matter  in 
the  universe  attracts  every  other  mass,  and  that  as  the  bod- 
ies approach  each  other  the  attraction  is  increased.  I  think 
this  increase  of  attraction  between  the  stone  and  earth,  as 
they  come  nearer  each  other,  is  the  cause  of  the  accelerated 
motion  of  the  stone  in  falling. 

5.  Mr.  M.  You  have  mistaken  the  cause  of  its  accelerated 
motion ;  for,  though  it  is  true  that  the  force  of  gravity  in- 
creases as  a  body  approaches  the  earth,  the  difference  is  so 
trifling  at  small  distances  from  the  surface  as  not  to  be  per- 
ceptible. When  a  stone  falls  from  a  height,  the  impulse^ 
which  it  receives  from  gravitation  in  the  first  instant  of  its 
fall  would  be  sufficient  to  bring  it  to  the  ground  with  a  uni- 
form velocity,  even  if  the  force  of  gravity  were  then  taken 
away ;  but  as  the  iovde  of  gravity  is  exerted  during  the  next 
instant  also,  the  stone  then  receives  an  additional  impulse 
downward,  and  so  during  each  succeeding  instant,  and  thus 
the  motion  is  uniformly  accelerated., 

6.  John.  It  is  perfectly  plain  that,  while  the  first  impulse 
continues,  gravity  is  constantly  acting,  and  thus  the  velocity 
of  a  falling  body  is  increased.  I  would  like  to  ask  if  a  stone 
occupies  the  same  time  in  going  up  as  in  coming  down. 

7.  Mr.  M.  It  does ;  for  in  going  up  its  force  is  constantly 
diminished  by  gravity.  Can  you  tell  me  how  many  feet  a 
body  will  fall  in  one  second  of  time  ? 

Ida.  It  is  found  by  experiment  that  a  body  falls  sixteen 
feet  during  the  first  second. 

Mr.  M.  How  far  the  next  second  ? 

8.  Ida.  Forty-eight  feet,  making  sixty-four  feet  in  the  two 
seconds.  * 


302  Willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  V. 

Ella.  It  appears  to  me,  then,  by  the  principles  just  stated, 
that  out  of  the  forty-eight  feet  which  the  body  falls  during 
the  second  second,  sixteen  must  be  owing  to  gravity,  the 
same  as  in  the  first  second,  and  the  remaining  thirty-two  feet 
to  the  velocity  which  the  body  had  acquired  in  falling  the 
first  sixteen  feet.     Is  not  that  so  ? 

9.  Mr.  M.  That  is  the  correct  explanation.  The  laws  of 
falling  bodies  may  be  shown  by  triangles,  as  in  this  diagram,^ 
Figure  6.  The  acceleration  of  a  falling  mass 
may  be  represented  by  the  divergence^  of  the 
two  sides,  a,  J,  and  a,  c.  If  we  divide  the  large 
triangle  into  smaller  ones  by  the  lines  1, 1,  2,  2, 
etc.,  which  may  represent  seconds,  the  bases  of 
the  triangles  which  we  thus  make  will  show 
the  acceleration  at  any  required  time,  and  the 
areas'^  of  the  several  smaller  triangles  will  rep- 
resent the  space  fallen  through. 

10.  In  such  case  the  area  of  each  smaller  tri- 
angle must  be  considered  16,  the  number  of 
feet  which  the  body  falls  by  the  force  of  grav- 
^^"  '  ity  alone;  and  the  base  must  be  called  32,  the 
velocity  which  a  body  attains  in  falling  16  feet  by  the  force 
of  gravity  alone.  You  see,  by  the  figure,  that  in  the  first  sec- 
ond there  is  one  triangle,  or  the  body  "falls  16  feet,  and  has  a 
velocity  at  the  end  of  the  time  of  32  feet.  In  the  next  sec- 
ond it  passes  over  the  space  of  three  triangles,  or  48  feet,  and 
has  a  velocity  of  64  feet.  In  the  third  second  we  h^YeJive 
triangles,  or  80  feet,  and  a  velocity  of  96  feet. 

In  the  same  manner  the  velocity  and  spaces  for  any  subse- 
quent second  in  the  fall  of  the  body  may  be  shown. 

11.  Frank.  I  thought  the  number  of  feet  described^  dur- 
ing any  portion  of  time  was  the  product  of  the  square^  of 
the  time  in  seconds  multiplied  by  16,  but  I  do  not  see  how 
that  follows  from  the  figure. 

12.  George.  I  think  I  understand  it.  You  have  only  to 
count  the  number  of  triangles  above  any  Hue,  and  you  will 
have  the  square  of  the  time  represented  by  that  line.  Thus, 
above  the  line  3  there  are  9  triangles,  and  as  each  one  is  16, 
the  space  abote  the  Ime  3  is  9  times  16,  or  144,  which  is  the 


1st  DiV.  OP  .....  .  NATURAL  JfHILOSOPHY.  303 

space  a  body  falls  in  three  seconds,  though  it  only  falls  80 
feet  in  the  third  second.  Do  you  not  see  5  triangles  between 
lines  3  and  2  ? 

13.  Frank.  Is  it  possible  that  we  can  extend  that  figure 
as  far  as  we  please,  and  work  any  problems'^  of  falling  bodies 
by  it? 

Mr.  M.  Let  us  try  a  problem.  How  high  is  a  flag-staff,  if 
an  arrow,  thrown  as  high  as  its  top,  is  six  seconds  in  the  air  ? 

14.  George.  It  will  be  as  long  in  going  up  as  in  coming 
down ;  hence  it  will  be  falling  three  seconds.  Three  squared 
is  nine,  and  nine  times  sixteen  are  one  hundred  and  forty- 
four,  the  height  of  the  staff. 

Mr.  31.  Correctly  solved ;  but  with  what  velocity  was  the 
arrow  shot  upward  ? 

15.  George.  I  see  in  the  figure  three  bases  of  the  small 
triangles,  and  as  each  one  represents  32  feet,  the  three  will 
be  96  feet,  which  the  arrow  acquired  in  falling;  that  must 
equal  the  velocity  which  was  destroyed  by  gravity  in  its 
ascent. 

16.  Mr.  M.  Do  you  observe  from  the  figure  that  when  the 
bases  are  doubled,  the  whole  number  of  triangles  above  such 
bases  is  quadrupled?^  Thus,  above  the  line  3  there  are  9 
triangles,  and  above  the  line  6  there  are  4  times  9,  or  36. 

George.  Can  we  not  prove  from  that,  that  if  a  person 
doubles  his  charge  of  powder  he  can  shoot  four  times  as  far 
upward  ? 

17.  John.  Yes;  and  if  I  start  to  run  up  stairs  with  double 
the  velocity  of  another  boy,  I  can  go  up  with  one  half  the 
muscular  exertion. 

Franlc.  How  can  that  be  ? 

John.  Do  you  not  see  that  I  can  go  four  times  as  far  by 
doubling  the  velocity,  but  to  double  the  speed  I  must  use 
twice  as  much  force  ? 

18.  Mr.  M.  I  have  listened  with  interest  to  your  discus- 
sion, and  am  pleased  to  see  you  so  readily  apprehend  the  doc- 
trine oi  falling  bodies ;  and  I  recommend  you  to  construct 
and  study  such  figures  as  the  dhe  I  have  described  to  you. 

Ella.  Do  not  heavy  bodies  fall  swifter  than  light  ones  ? 

19.  Mr.  M.  Practically  they  do ;  but  if  it  were  not  for  the 


304 


WILLSON'S  POTTETH   READER. 


Paet  V. 


i'iK.  T. 


resistance  of  the  air,  all  bodies  would  fall  in  the  same  times 
from  the  same  height.  I  will  show  you  the  "  guine§,  and 
feather"  experiment.  You  observe  that  in  this  tall  glass  re- 
ceiver, when  it  is  full  of  air,  the  coin 
falls  much  more  rapidly  than  the  feath- 
er. I  will  now  replace  them,  and  ex- 
haust® the  air  from  the  receiver,  and 
what  do  you  observe  as  I  detach^^  them 
at  the  same  time  ? 

20.  Ella,  The  feather  seems  as  heavy 
as  the  coin,  for  they  fell  together. 

Mr.  M.  So  great  is  the  resistance  of 
the  air  when  great  surface  is  exposed 
to  it,  that  people  have  descended  from 
the  height  of  two  miles,  by  the  aid  of  a 
kind  of  stout  umbrella,  called  2^  parachute^'^  and  gently  touch- 
ed the  ground. 

21.  FratiJc.  I  have  just  read  of  a  balloon  which  burst  at  a 
great  elevation,  and  the  aeronaut' ^  came  down  in  safety,  as 
the  balloon  was  held  within  the  net-work  in  the  form  of  a 
parachute. 

22.  Mr,  M,  An  ancient  poet,  Lucretius,  knew  the  resist- 
ance of  air  when  he  wrote, 

"In  water  or  in  air,  when  weights  descend, 
The  heavier  weights  more  swiftly  downward  tend  ; 
The  limpid  waves,  the  gales  that  gently  play, 
Yield  to  the  weightier  mass  a  readier  way ; 
But  if  the  weights  in  empty  space  should  fall. 
One  common  swiftness  we  should  find  in  all." 

23.  You  have  perhaps  heard  the  old  proverb  that  "  a  child 
can  throw  a  feather  as  far  as  Hercules,"  and  you  can  doubt- 
less see  the  reason  in  the  resistance  of  the  air. 

There  is  another  matter  for  explanation 
in  this  lesson,  concerning  what  is  called  the 
centre  oi  gravity. 

Frank,  As  gravity  is  weight,  the  centre 
of  gravity  must  be  the  same  as  the  centre 
of  weight,  or  the  point  where  a  body  will 
^'^-^-  balance. 


1st  Div.  OF NATUBAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


305 


iig.  y. 


24.  Mr.  M.  It  is  the  point  about  which  all  the  parts  "bal- 
ance each  other ;  and  if  this  point  be 
supported,  the  whole  body  will  be 
supported ;  otherwise  the  body  will 
fall. 

£Jlla.  That  must  be  the  reason  why 
the  stage  was  upset  the  other  day. 
Mr.  Jones  said  it  was  dangerous  to 
pile  so  many  trunks  on  the  top. 

25.  Mr.  M.  If  you  imagine  a  line 
drawn  from  the  centre  of  gravity  of 
a  body,  toward  the  centre  of  the  earth,  that  line  is  called  the 
line  of  direction.  If  that  line  fall  within  the  base  or  support 
"of  a  body,  the  body  will  stand ;  but  if  it  does  not  come  with- 
5  c  d      in  the  base,  the  body  will  fall. 

The  centres  of  gravity  in  the 
figures  shown  in  this  cut  are 
Fig.  10.  where  the  lines  cross  each  other. 

26.  John.  The  figure  b  has  the  same  base  as  a,  but  it  can 
be  more  easily  overturned.  If  it  were  about  four  times  its 
present  height,  I  do  not  think  it  could  stand  at  all. 

Ida.  I  have  read  of  a /eaw- 
ing  tower  at  Pisa,  in  Italy, 
which  appears  as  if  it  were 
just  ready  to  fall,  and  yet  it 
has  stood  several  hundred 
years. 

27.  Mr.  M.  This  wonder- 
ful tower  is  one  hundred  and 
ninety  feet  high,  and  leans 
twelve  feet;  but  this  is  less 
than  half  of  its  diameter; 
hence  the  line  of  direction 
falls  within  the  base,  as  you 
see  in  the  drawing  which  I 
show  you  (Fig.  11). 
John.  My  father  has  often  told  me  never  to  stand  up  in  a 
small  boat  when  the  waves  cause  it  to  rock  violently,  as  it 
would  increase  the  danger  of  upsetting.    I  can  now  see  that 


Fig.  11. — Leaning  Tower  of  Pisa. 


306  willson's  fourth  reader.  Paet  v. 

standing  up  would  elevate  the  centre  of  gravity,  and  that  it 
would  be  much  safer  for  all  persons  in  the  boat  to  keep  as 
near  the  bottom  of  the  boat  as  possible. 

■  28.  Mr.  M.  The  principle  that  you  would  adopt  to  secure 
your  own  safety  in  a  small  boat  is  the  same  that  is  followed 
in  the  arrangement  of  the  ballast  and  cargo  of  a  ship.  Bal- 
last is  some  heavy  material  placed  low  down  in  the  hold^^  Qf 
a  vessel  to  give  it  steadiness  in  the  water. 

29.  George.  Boys  who  walk  on  stilts,  or  attempt  to  stand 
on  skates,  can  understand  the  importance  of  keeping  the  line 
of  direction  within  the  base ;  but  I  can  not  understand  why 
it  is  so  much  easier  to  keep  one's  balance  when  moving  swift- 
ly, than  when  standing  still. 

30.  Frank.  I  have  noticed  Mr.  D.  walks  much  faster  after 
he  has  visited  two  or  three  grog-shops,  than  at  other  times ; 
and  I  heard  a  person  say  that  probably  he  could  walk  straight- 
er  by  walking  faster. . 

Ida.  I  know  that  a  hoojD  will  roll  for  a  long  time  leaning  much 
to  one  side,  while  it  would  fall  at  once  if  it  were  not  in  motion. 
^1^  31.  Ella.  I  think  my  father's  gyroscope^^ 

gEfe^  is  the  most  wonderful  instance  of  a  moving 

^^gr^  body  supporting  itself  against  gravity.    Here 

it  is,  now.  See  me  spin  the  heavy  wheel  rap- 
idly around  inside  of  the  ring.  The  ring, 
wheel,  and  axle  remain  in  a  horizontal  posi- 
tion ;  and  not  only  that,  but  they  revolve 
Fig.  '12'"  around  the  stem  on  which  they  rest.  I  would 
The  Gyroscope,     like  to  understand  that. 

32.  John.  Motion  seems  to  play  strange  pranks  with  the 
centre  of  gravity.  I  know  that  by  giving  a  quoit  a  whirling 
motion,  I  can  make  it  strike  much  truer.  I  recollect  reading 
of  a  crooked  stick,  called  a  hoimnerang^  which  the  natives  of 
Australia  throw  in  a  curved  path,  and  even  make  it  come 
around  to  them  again. 

33.  Mr.  M.  Although  you  are  wandering  somewhat  from 
the  topic  for  to-day,  I  have  listened  with  pleasure  to  the  in- 
stances you  have  given  of  the  curiosities  of  motion,  and  I 
shall  not  have  a  better  opportunity  than  this  to  explain  the 
mysteries  of  momentum,  and  show  how 


IstDlV.  OF NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY.  307 

"The  skater,  motion-poised,  may  proudly  swim 
In  air-borne  circles  o'er  the  glassy  plain." 

You  have  seen  that  when  two  forces  act  on  a  body  at  the 
same  time,  their  united  effect  is  represented  by  a  single  force 
called  a  resultant.^^ 

34.  John.  Yes,  sir,  we  understood  that,  as  it  was  explain- 
ed under  the  head  of  composition  of  forces. 

Mr.  M.  Are  you  aware  that  whenever  the  particles  of  a 
body  are  moving  in  any  direction,  it  requires  force  to  change 
the  direction  of  the  motion  ? 

35.  Jolm.  I  think  this  is  the  reason  why  a  quoit  can  be 
thrown  more  accurately  when  it  has  a  whirling  motion. 
When  the  slaters  were  repairing  our  roof,  I  noticed  that  when 
they  threw  any  of  the  slates  to  the  ground,  they  gave  them  a 
whirling  motion,  and  that  they^would  strike  on  the  edge  with- 
out being  broken. 

36.  Mr.  M.  The  rolling  of  the  inclined  hoop  illustrates  my 
point.  Gravity  can  not  overcome  the  tendency  of  the  par- 
ticles to  continue  on  in  the  direction  which  has  been  given  to 
them.  There  is  a  composition  of  motions  as  well  as  of 
forces  /  and  do  you  not  see  that  the  particles  in  the  wheel 
of  the  gyroscope  are  revolving  in  a  vertical  plane',  or  direc- 
tion', by  the  impulse  given  in  spinning  the  wheel',  while  at 
the  same  instant  the  weight  of  the  wheel  tends  to  make  it 
fall'? 

37.  As,  when  two  forces  act  on  a  body,  it  will  not  move  in 
the  direction  of  either,  but  in  a  diagonal  between  them,  so 
when  a  body  in  motion  is  under  the  influence  of  two  forces, 
one  to  retain  it  in  the  direction  of  its  motion,  and  the  other 
to  change  that  direction,  it  will  obey  neither,  but  go  between 
them,  and  nearer  one  than  the  other,  in  proportion  as  one 
force  is  greater  than  the  other.  As  one  end  of  the  axis^^  of 
the  wheel  is  supported,  while  the  other  tends  to  fall,  the  force 
of  gravity  is  expended  in  giving  to  the  instrument  itself  a  ro- 
tary motion  in  a  iiirection  opposite  that  of  the  rim  of  the 
wheel. 

38.  I  am  aware  that  the  explanation  I  have  attempted  re- 
quires more  knowledge  of  philosophy  than  I  could  expect 
from  you  now,  and  I  do  not  suppose  you  to  understand  so 


308 


willson's  foitrth  keadee. 


Part  V. 


difficult  a  matter  clearly  at  present,  but  have  thought  best  to 
point  out  the  way  that  will  lead  you  to  an  understanding  of 
it  in  future. 

39.  John.  I  think  the  spinning  of  a  top  in  a  leaning  posi- 
tion so  long  a  time  is  explained  on  the  same  principle. 

Mr.  M.  Yes ;  and  not  only  the  spinning  of  a  top,  but  a 
grand  astronomical  motion,  which  requires  about  25,000  years 
to  accomplish  one  revolution.  Do  not  forget  this  lesson  when 
we  come  to  the  Precession  of  the  Equinoxes^  in  Astronomy. 

40.  But,  George,  when  you  introduced  the  stilts  and  skates 
into  this  conversation,  we  all  walked  off  from  the  immediate 
subject,  to  which  it  is  time  to  return.  We  were  speaking  of 
the  support  of  the  centre  of  gravity.  Can  you  give  any  in- 
stances of  stabilityi"^  when  the  line  of  direction  seems  to  fall 
without  the  base  ? 

41.  Ella.  Those  toys  made  of  pith,  and  fashioned  in  the 
shape  of  soldiers,  which  rise  up  as  often  as  we  knock  them 
down,  have  the  centre  of  gravity  very  low  down.  I  once 
had  the  curiosity  to  pick  one  to  pieces,  and  found  it  well  bal- 
lasted^^ with  lead. 

John.  Just  so  the  "  old  ship  righted"  when  the  wind  had 
blown  her  on  her  "  beam  ends." 

Mr.  M.  So,  you  see,  there  is  philosophy  every  where. 

42.  Ida.  I  always  like  to  see  the  graceful  motions  of  those 
prancing  toy  horses,  which  are  kept  from  falling  by  a  w^eight 
attached  to  a  stiff  wire,  and  so  placed  as  to  fall  nearly  under 
the  hind  feet. 

Mr.  M.  Li  this  case,  does  the  horse 
support  the  weight,  or  the  weight  sup- 
port the  horse  ? 

43.  Frank.  I  think  the  horse  sup- 
ports the  weight,  and  the  centre  of 
gravity  of  the  whole  compound  figure  is  with- 
in the  leaden  ball.     (Fig.  13.) 

John.  Then  the  centre  of  gravity  is  not 
over  the  base. 

Frank.  It  is  under  it,  and  the  line  of  direc- 
tion comes  in  the  right  place.     In  this  case  ^'^*  ^^* 
the  motion  is  a  swinging  one,  like  a  clock  pendulum. 


J  St  Div.  OF NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


309 


44.  Mr,  M.  The  reference  to  the  clock  pendulum  reminds 
me  that  our  hour  has  elapsed,  and  I  shall  expect  you  to  come 
next  week  with  what  you  can  prepare  on  the  subject  of  Me- 
chanical Powers. 


1  Im'-pulse,  force  commimicated, 

2  Di'-A-GEAM,  a  figure  drawn  for  the  pur- 
pose of  explaining  some  principle. 

3  Di-VEE(i'-ENCE,  a  receding  or  separating 
from  each  other. 

4  a'-ke-a,  extent  of  surface. 
*  De-sceTb'ed,  passed  over. 

6  "The  square"  of  a  number  means  the 
product  of  that  number  by  itself. 

'  1*kob'-lem,  some  question  in  mathematics 
requiring  a  solution. 

8  Quad'-ku-ple,  increased  four  fold. 

9  Ex-h.vust',  draw  out ;  remove. 

10  DE-TAcn',  let  loose  ;  set  free. 

11  Par'-a-cuute  (jmr'-a-shute). 


12  a'-ek-o-naut,  one  who  sails  or  floats  in 
the  air  ;  a  balloonist. 

13  H01.D,  the  whole  interior  cavity  of  a  ship 
below  the  lower  deck. 

1*  6y''-ro-S€Ope,  an  instrument  for  illus- 
trating the  phenomena  of  rotation  and 
the  composition  of  rotations. 

15  Ee-s-xtlt'-ant,  that  which  results  from  the 
combination  of  two  or  more. 

16  Ax'-is,  that  which  passes  through  the 
centre  of  the  wheel,  and  on  which  it  re- 
volves. 

1''  Sta-bil'-i-ty,  strength  to  stand  without 

being  overthrown. 
18  Bal'-last-ed,  kept  steady  by  ballast. 


LESSON  VII. 

MECHANICAL  POWERS.* 


1.  Mr.  M.  The  topic  for  this  lesson  will  certainly  be  an 
interesting  one  to  the  young  ladies  who  wish  to  know  about 
scissors  and  sewing  machines,  as  well  as  to  the  lad  who  knows 
all  about  mills,  and  the  one  who  understands  the  mechanical^ 
arrangements  used  in  farm  work  ;..,but  as  for  Frank,  who  has 
spent  his  life  thus  far  in  his  father's  office  and  the  Latin 
school,  I  can  hardly  expect  that  our  mfl^inical  lesson  will 
be  so  pleasing  to  him. 

2.  Frank.  But,  Mr.  Maynard,  while  I  was  reading  Caesar 
and  Virgil,  I  found  it  necessary  to  know  something  about  the 
mechanical  powers,  in  order  to  understand  the  machines 
which  the  Romans  used  to  batter  down  walls,  and  to  dis- 
charge arrows,  darts,  and  stones.  I  have  constructed  a  model 
of  Caesar's  bridge,^  from  his  description  of  it ;  and  also  mod- 
els of  the  catapulta,  ballista,  and  scorpio  f  and  I  think  no  one 
can  feel  more  desirous  to  understand  the  mechanical  powers 
than  I  do. 

3.  Mr.  M.  Very  well ;  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  appreci- 
ate* the  importance  of  such  knowledge  to  a  correct  under- 


*  The  Mechanical  Powers  are  certain  instruments  or  simple  machines  employed  to  fa- 
cilitate the  moving  of  weights,  or  the  overcoming  of  resistance. 


310  willson's  fourth  reader.  Paet  v. 

standing  of  what  you  read.  What  is  a  simple  machine, 
Frank? 

Frank.  An  instrument  by  which  weights  can  be  raised, 
resistance  of  heavy  bodies  overcome,  and  motion  communi- 
cated to  masses  of  matter. 

4.  Mr,  M.  A  very  good  definition.  How  many  primary 
mechcmical powers  are  there? 

John.  Three  ;  the  lever  ^  pulley^  and  inclined  plane. 

Mr.  M.  That  is  the  division  I  prefer,  as  the  wheel  and  axle^ 
the  wedge^  and  screw,  are  modifications^  of  the  first  three. 
What  is  a  lever  ? 

George.  A  lever  is  an  inflexible^  bar,  supported  on  a  point 
called  ^fidcrum,''  about  which  it  moves  freely. 

5.  Mr.  M.  I  like  to  have  you  give  the  definitions  so  clear- 
ly.    In  the  cut  which  I  here  show  you,  you  see  a  man  trying 

to  move  a  heavy  stone.  Here 
L  is  the  lever,  F  the  fulcrum, 
W  the  weight.  By  pressing 
down  at  the  end  L,  the  other 
end  of  the  lever  raises  W,  the 
weight.  The  centre  of  motion 
^'^'  .^^  is  at  F,  the  fulcrum.     In  other 

words,  the  power  or  force  resting  on  the  prop  or  fulcrum 
overcomes  the  \|M||ht  or  resistance.  Thus,  if  the  lever  be 
under  the  centre^r  gravity  of  the  weight,  and  the  length  of 
the  lever  from  the  fulcrum  be  twice  as  long  as  the  other  part, 
a  man  can  raise  the  weight  one  inch  for  every  two  inches  he 
presses  down  the  end  of  the  lever. 

6.  I  wish  you  to  notice  that  there  are  four  things  to  be 
considered,  viz.,  the  power  applied,  and  its  distance  from  the 
fulcrum ;  also  the  weight  or  resistance,  and  its  distance  from 
the  fulcrum.  Now  if  the  stone  weighs  500  pounds,  and  is 
two  feet  from  the  fulcrum,  how  much  power  must  the  man 
apply,  at  a  distance  of  five  feet  from  the  fulcrum,  in  order  to 
move  the  stone? 

Y.  John.  I  have  learned  that  in  all  such  cases  the  product 
of  the  weight  by  its  distance  is  equal  to  the  product  of  the 
power  by  its  distance ;  therefore  I  find  the  required  power  to 
be  200  pounds. 


1st  DiV.  OF NATUEAL   PHILOSOPHY.  311 

Ella.  Please  explain  your  work  for  our  benefit,  and  not 
come  to  the  conclusion  so  suddenly. 

8.  John.  The  weight  500,  multiplied  by  its  distance  2,  is 
1000.  The  product  of  the  power  by  its  distance  must  be 
equal  to  1000.  But  the  distance  of  the  power  is  5,  hence  the 
other  factor,  or  the  power,  will  be  found  by  dividing  1000  by 
5,  which  will  give  200. 

Ella.  Are  the  calculations  for  aU  kinds  of  levers  made  so 
easily  ? 

9.  Mr.  M.  I  am  most  happy  to  assure  you  that  not  ©nly 
are  all  calculations  pertaining  to  the  lever  thus  simple,  but 
also  all  calculations  of  the  other  simple  mechanical  powers. 
Do  you  uaderstand  this  expression,  PxPc?=Wx  WcZ?* 

10.  George.  I  think  it  must  mean  that  the  product  oi pow- 
er by  power'' s  distance  from  the  fulcrum  is  equal  to  the  prod- 
uct of  the  weight  by  the  weigMs  distance  from  the  fulcrum. 

11.  Mr.  31.  That  is  the  law  for  equilibrium;  but  to  pro- 
duce motion  the  power  must  exceed  that  necessary  for  equi- 
librium or  balancing.  Universally,  the  product  of  the  power 
by  the  distance  it  moves  is  always  equal  to  the  product  of  the 
weight  by  the  distance  it  moves  in  a  vertical  direction.  When- 
ever you  have  any  difficulty  in  solving  questions  in  mechan- 
ical powers,  think  of  this  principle. 

12.  Joh7i.  Does  not  the  weight  of  the  long  end  of  the  lever 
interfere  with  this  rule  ?  I  saw  some  engineers  once  weigh- 
ing the  lever  of  a  safety-valve,  and  heard  them  say  the  rule 
for  calculating  levers  would  not  do  for  them. 

Mr.  M.  Very  true ;  the  weight  of  the  lever  is  a  part  of  the 
power,  and  should  be  so  calculated.  In  the  formula^  I  have 
given  you  the  lever  is  considered  as  without  weight. 

13.  John.  As  all  levers  do  really  have  weighty  will  you 
please  show  us  how  to  estimate  that  weight  in  practice  ? 

Mr.  M.  Have  you  not  been  able  to  find  the  information 
you  seek  in  any  school-books  or  mechanics'  manuals  ?® 

John.  ISTo,  sir.  I  have  searched  diligently  even  in  college 
text-books  in  your  library. 

14.  3fr.  M.  I  really  can  not  point  you  to  the  book  where 


This  should  be  read,  "  P  mxcltiplied  by  Td  equals  W  multiplied  by  W(Z.' 


312  willson's  fourth  eeader.  Part  V. 

you  will  find  what  you  wish,  and  what  is  so  important,  but  I 
think  it  can  be  made  very  plain.  We  will  use  this  diagram 
for  our  illustration. 


15.  Suppose  the  lever  to  be  a  bar  of  iron  sixteen  inches 
long,  every  inch  of  which  weighs  one  pound,  and  that  the 
fulcrum,  F,  is  six  inches  from  the  weight,  W.  The  centre  of 
gravity  of  the  short  arm  will  be  three  inches  from  the  ful- 
crum, where  the  weight  will  be  six  pounds.  Th^^entre  of 
the  long  arm  will  be  five  inches  from  the  fulcrum,  where  its 
weight  will  be  ten  pounds.  Now  we  have  only  to  calculate 
the  short  end  as  an  additional  weight  of  six  pounds  three 
inches  from  the  fulcrum,  and  the  weight  of  the  long  arm  as  a 
power  of  ten  pounds  five  inches  distant,  and  combine  these 
with  the  theoreticapo  calculation. 

16.  John.  I  think  I  can  now  accomplish  what  I  have  heard 
many  mechanics  wish  themselves  able  to  do.  The  problem 
does  not  seem  to  be  a  very  difiicult  one. 

Mr.  M.  Will  you  tell  me,  then,  with  such  a  lever,  what 
power  at  P  will  balance  100  pounds  at  W? 

IV.  Joh7i.  If  we  multiply  100  by  6  (six  inches),  we  have 
600.  Then  6  pounds,  the  weight  of  the  short  arm  of  the  le- 
ver, multiplied  by  3  (three  inches),  will  give  18,  which,  add- 
ed to  600,  will  make  618,  for  the  products  of  the  weights  by 
their  distances.  Then,  for  the  long  arm  of  the  lever,  we  mul- 
tiply the  weight  10  by  its  distance  5,  and  take  the  product, 
50,  from  618,  and  this  will  leave  568  pounds  to  be  balanced 
by  a  weight  at  P ;  but,  as  P  is  ten  inches  from  the  fulcrum,  we 
divide  568  by  10,  and  this  gives  us  56  pounds  and  eight 
tenths  of  a  pound. 

18.  Mr.M.  You  are  correct  in  your  answer.  Fifty-six 
pounds  and  eight  tenths  of  a  pound  at  P  will  balance  one 
hundred  pounds  at  W.  Can  you  tell  me  what  would  have 
been  the  theoretical  answer  ? 

Ida.  I  have  already  made  the  calculation,  and  I  find,  if  we 


1st  DiT.  OF NATUEAL  PHILOSOPHY.  313 

suppose  the  bar  or  lever  not  to  have  any  weighty  60  pounds 
at  P  will  balance  100  at  W. 

19.  Mr.  M.  Thus,  you  see,  there  is^  a  -difference  of^ver 
three  pounds.  If  the  lever  is  not  a  straight  and  uniform  bar, 
the  distance  of  the  centres  of  gravity  of  its  arms  must  be  cal- 
culated by  means  we  can  not  introduce  here. 

Ida.  I  used  to  learn  about  three  kinds  of  levers.  Can  the 
power  of  all  of  them  be  calculated  in  the  same  way  ? 

20.  Mr.  M.  Yes.  Their  parts  are  essentially  the  same ; 
viz.,  the  power  and  its  distance^  and  the  weight  and  its  dis- 
tance from  the  centre  of  motion ;  and  the  formula  I  gave  will 
solve  them  all.  Can  you  tell  me  what  constitutes  a  lever  of 
the  second  kind  ? 

21.  George.  The  second  hind  of  lever  is  that  in  which  the 
weight  and  the  power  are  on  the  same  side  of  the  fulcrum, 
and  the  power  is  furthest  from  the  fulcrum. 

Thus,  if  a  mason  desires  to  move  forward  a 
large  piece  of  stone,  instead  of  bearing  down 
upon  the  lever  to  raise  it  up  a  little,  he  sticks 
his  crowbar  into  the  ground,  and  pushing  up- 
ward, moves  the  stone  little  by  little  onward,  ^  i,ig.  lu 
the  ground  being  the  fulcrum. 

22.  John.  Is  not  a  common  wheelbarrow  a  kind  of  lever 
of  this  kind  ? 

Mr.  M.  It  is  a  lever  on  a  rolling  fulcrum.  So,  also,  is  the 
oar  of  a  boat,  the  water  being  the  fulcrum;  the  person  who 
rows  the  power,  and  the  boat  itself  the  resistance. 

23.  Frank.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  masts  of  a  ship  are 
levers. 

Mr.  M.  So  they  are ;  and  also  the  rudders  by  which  ships 
are  steered.  Can  the  young  ladies  give  me  some  examples 
of  levers  either  of  the  first  or  second  kind  ? 

Ida.  Nut-crackers  and  lemon-squeezers  are  levers  of  the 
second  kind. 

Ulla.  Scissors,  forceps,  and  snuffers  are  double  levers  of 
the  first  kind. 

24.  Mr.  M.  Well  said ;  for  when  you  readily  state  the  kind 
of  levers,  I  think  you  understand  what  is  the  fulcrum,  power, 
and  weight.     The  scale-heavn  used  in  weighing  is  a  simple 

O 


314 


WILLSON's   rOIIRTH   EEADER. 


Past  V. 


Fig.  IT. 


Fig.  18. 


lever.  The  arms,  a  a,  on  each  side,  are 
made  of  equal  length,  and  suspended 
pver  the  centre  of  gravity.  The  axis^^ 
or  pivot,  ^,  which  is  the  point  of  sus- 
pension, is  sharpened  to  a  very  thin 
edge,  that  the  beam  may  easily  turn 
with  as  little  friction  as  possible  when 
weights  are  applied  in  the  scales.  Can 
you  give  me  a  description  of  the  third  kind  of  lever  ? 

25.  Frank.  The  third  kind  of  lever  is  that 
in  which  the  fulcrum  is  at  one  end,  the  weight 
at  the  other,  and  the  power  placed  between 
them.  A  man  raising  a  ladder  which  rests  on 
one  end  is  an  example ;  so,  also,  arejire-tongs. 
I  have  read  that  at  one  time  this  was  called 
the  losing  lever^  because  the  power  had  to  be 
greater  than  the  weight ;  but  the  advantages 
of  it  are  that  a  small  joower  causes  the  extreme  point  of  a 
long  arm  to  move  over  a  great  space. 

26.  Mr.  M.  Yes;  and  it  is  one  of  those  wonderful  adapta- 
tions of  the  Divine  Being  in  the  construction  of  the  limbs  of 
animals.  This  arrangement  is  seen  in  all  its  beauty  in  the 
wings  of  birds,  whose  muscles  are  sometimes  very  powerful, 
sustaining  the  weight  of  their  bodies  while  they  travel  ur.- 
rested  for  days  amid  the  tempests  of  the  heavens. 

27.  Ella.  We  .have  had  examples  of  this  kind  of  lever  in 
our  reading-lessons  in  Ornithology,  in  the  instances  of  the  long- 
sustained  flights  of  the  stormy  petrel  and  the  albatross,  and 
of  the  wild  or  passenger  pigeon  ;  and  I  see  now  that  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  lever  makes  those  cases  all  the  more  interesting. 

Mr.  M.  And  perhaps  some  one  of  you  can  find  an  example 
of  the  same  kind  of  lever  in  your  reading-lessons  on  Human 
Physiology. 

28.  Ida.  Oh  yes,  here  it  is,  on  the  twenty-second 
page  of  our  Fourth  Reader.    I  see  in  the  example  of 
the  bones  and  muscles  of  the  arm  that  the  elbo\v 
is  the  fulcrum,  the  muscles  the 
moving  power,  and  the  weight 
raised  the  resistance. 


1st  Div.  OF NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


315 


Mr.  M.  You  are  right ;  and  from  the  principles  ah-eady 
learned  you  will  perceive  that  if  the  weight  in  the  hand  be 
fifty  pounds,  and  be  raised  twenty  inches  while  the  muscles 
springing  from  the  shoulder  contract  one  inch,  the  force  ex- 
erted by  the  muscles  must  be  equal  to  one  thousand  pounds. 

John.  I  believe  a  horse  draws  a  cart  on  the  principle  of 
the  lever. 

Mr.  M.  Yes;  the  weight  of  the  horse  is  the  power,  especial- 
ly in  drawing  up  hill,  and  his  hind  feet  constitute  the  fulcrum. 

29.  George.  I  understand  now  why,  when  one  of  our  horses 
could  not  draw  a  cart  up  a  short  steep  hill,  the  driver  got  on 
the  forward  part  of  the  cart,  and  the  horse  drew  up  the  man 
and  cart,  when  he  could  not  draw  the  cart  alone.  The  weight 
of  the  man  bearing  on  the  back  of  the  horse  added  to  the 
power. 

30.  Mr.  M.  Is  it  not  delightful  to  trace  the  causes  of 
things  ?     Gates,  doors,  and  chests  furnish  us 

Jjj^       illustrations  of  the  princi- 
^^1        pies  we  have  been  consid- 
/^^y~   ering.     You  will  find  that 
n^v-  "       a  thousand  comn;on  things 
Fig.  20.  are    accomplished    on    the  ^  ^' 

principle  of  the  lever.     But  we  must  proceed  to  the  pidley  ; 
so  what  can  you  say  of  this  power  ? 

31.  Frank.  It  is  a  small  grooved  wheel,  with  a 
cord  passing  over  it. 

Mr.  M.  What  is  gained  by  such  a  pulley  ? 
Frank.  Nothing  but  change  of  direction.     A 
man,  by  pulling  down.^  can  raise  a 
weight  \ip. 

John.  Yes,  and  several  men  can 
join  their  strength  at  the  same  time  to  raise  a 
very  large  weight. 

32.  George.  By  putting  another  pulley  near 
the  ground,  horses  and  oxen  can  walk  off  hori- 
zontally and  raise  weights  vertically.  When  I 
went  to  Washington  last  summer,  I  saw  horses 
raising  large  blocks  of  marble,  and  iron  pillars,  to  a  great 
height  on  the  Capitol. 


Fig.  "iH. 


316 


willson's  fourth  eeadee. 


Part  V. 


iig.  24. 


33.  Mr.  M.  Perhaps  the  pulley  is  of  more  advantage  to 
the  sailor  than  to  man  in  any  other  occupation.  Have  you 
ever  heard  of  a  contrivance  called  a  fire  escape^  by  which  a 
man  could  let  himself  down  in  safety  from  the  lofty  window 
of  a  burning  house  ? 

John.  I  never  heard  of  one,  but  I  can  at  once  see  how  it 
could  be  done. 

34'.  Frank.  I  have  often  seen  workmen  making 
some  slight  repairs  to  the  walls  of  houses,  with  one 
end  of  a  rope  fastened  around  their  bodies,  and  pass- 
ing over  a  pulley,  as  you  see  in  this  figure. 

Flla.  I  can  see  how  he  can  balance  himself,  but  I 
can  not  understand  how  he  can  draw  himself  up. 

35.  Mr.  M.  By  a  little  exertion,  he  can  throw  more 
than  half  his  weight  on  one  side  of  the  pulley,  which 
makes  that  end  of  the  rope  descend,  while  the  other 
rises;  and,  as  the  nursery  rhyme  says,  "so  he  goes 
up,  up,  up,"  or  "  down,  down,  down,"  as  he  chooses. 

George.  I  recollect  a  man  went  down  into  our  deep  well 
in  that  way. 

36.  Mr.  if.  That  was  by  means  of  a  fixed 
pulley ;  but  the  mechanical  power  is  a  movable 
pulley,  like  the  one  I  have  here  represented. 
The  power,  you  will  at  once  see,  being  held  by 
a  single  roj^e,  passes  over  twice  the  space  of  the 
weight,  which  is  held  by  a  double  rope. 

John.  Then,  by  the  way  we  cal- 
culate the  powers  of  levers,  the  weight 
is  double  the  power  in  this  case. 

Fig.  25.  3Y     jyr^    j^f    I   gl^j^ii   j^a^g    ^Q    jj^jjjg 

you  John  Archimedes,^^  for  I  verily  believe  he 
would  have  reasoned  in  the  same  way.  Do  you 
not  see  that  one  pulley  moves  up  just  as  the  weight 
does,  and  that  it  doubles  the  power  ? 

Ida.  I  have  long  known  that  a  movable  pul- 
ley has  this  effect,  but  I  never  understood  it  be- 
fore. 

38.  Mr,  M.  Xot  even/  movable  pulley,  but  only 
those  that  have  one  arranged  as  you  see  this.     I     Fig.  26. 


1st  DiV.  OP BTATUEAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


311 


Fig.  27. 


have  here  two  movable  pulleys  with  one  rope  passing  over 
them.     What  will  one  pomid  at  P  balance  at  W  ? 
Ida.  Fom-  pounds. 

M.  That  is  correct.  I  have  again  three  movable 
pulleys,  as  in  the  figure :  what  will  one  pound  at 
P  balance  at  W  ? 

Ida.  I  was  about  to  say  six,  but  I  see  it  would 
be  eight.  The  figures  'on  the  strings  show  the 
tension^ ^  or  weight  at  each  place. 

Ulla.  Does  the  power  in  the  last  example  real- 
ly move  eight  times  as  far  as  the  weight  is 
raised  ? 

40.  Mr.  M.  Exactly  eight  times  as  far  whenev- 
er it  is  but  one  eighth  as  heavy. 
John.  Do  workmen  call  them  pulleys  ? 
Mr.  M.  The  ropes  used  about  a  puUey  are  called  tackle, 
and  the  pulleys  blocks ;  therefore,  when  a  sailor  or  workman 
collects  together  all  things  necessary  for  the  application  of 
this  machine,  he  speaks  of  the  hlock  and  tackle. 
What  is  the  next  simple  mechanical  power? 
Ella.  The  Inclined  Plane. 
Mr.  M.  And  what  is  an  inclined  plane  f 
Frank.  The  book  says  it  is  a  plain  surface  inclined^*  to  the 
horizon.'^ 

41.  Mr.  M.  That  is  true;  but  let  us  take  a  famUiar  example. 
To  Uft  barrels  of  flour  into  a  cart 
from  the  ground  would  be  rather 
hard  work ;  but  to  roll  them  up  an 
inclined  plank  or  plane  would  be 
comparatively  easy.  Suppose  the 
cart  to  be 

Fig.  28.  three   feet 

high,  and  the  plane  six  feet  long, 
how  much  power  will  be  required  to 
sustain  a  barrel  of  flour,  weighing 
two  hundred  pounds,  on  the  plane  ? 

42.  George.  One  hundred  pounds,  ^^^'  *^' 

if  the  principle  by  which  the  lever  is  calculated  applies ;  for, 
to  roU  it  up,  the  power  will  have  to  foUow  the  barrel  the 


318 


WILLSON  S   FOURTH   READER. 


Part  V. 


length  of  the  plane ;  but  the  barrel  will  only  be  raised  the 
height  of  the  cart  in  a  vertical  direction.  Now  if  the  weight 
be  raised  but  half  the  space  described  by  the  power,  it  must 
be  twice  as  great. 

43.  Mr.  M.  Very  well  explained  indeed ;  and  I  must  call 
you  George  Archimedes. 

Frank,  These  mechanical  powers  are  more  like  each  other 
than  one  would  have  supposed. 

44.  Mr.  M.  The  principle  you 
so  much  admire,  and  so  easily 
comprehend,  is  commonly  known 
as  the  "  law  of  virtual  velocities," 
and  I  hope  you  will  point  out  the 
first  exception  you  find  to  this  law. 
I  expected  to  finish  the  subject 
of  mechanics  at  this  conversation, 
but  find  it  necessary  to  continue  the 
^^g-  30-  same  subject  in  our  next  lesson. 

45.  "You  have  seen  in  this  and  the  previous  conversa- 
tions," continued  Mr.  Maynard,  as  the  class  were  about  to 
separate,  "  that  very  common  matters  abound  in  philosophy ; 
and,  indeed,  every  thing  that  we  can  notice  by  any  of  our 
senses  is  capable  of  afibrding  us  some  instruction.  I  will  here 
remind  you — what  I  have  often  said  before — that  it  is  of  great 
importance  to  you  in  early  life  to  cultivate  such  an  inquiring 
state  of  mind  as  will  not  only  incline  you  to  notice  every  thing 
around  you,  but  also  to  examine  into  the  causes  of  things. 
By  so  doing  you  will  find  matters  of  interest  in  the  most 
common  things  of  life,  and  every  thing  will  preach  to  you 
philosophy.^'* 

46.  The  system  of  education  pursued  by  Mr.  Maynard,  and 
his  great  success  in  it,  were  such  as  to  discredit^^  the  doctrine 
that  pupils  must  entirely  master  one  subject  before  entering 
upon  another.  Proceeding  upon  the  idea  that  the  human  mind 
is  not  a  unit  in  its  operations,  and  that  its  harmonious  devel- 
opment demands  a  great  variety  of  subjects  for  the  exercise 
of  its  varied  powers,  the  range  that  he  gave  to  his  pupils  in 
the  domains  of  knowledge  was  a  very  extensive  one.  Like  the 
honey-bee,  they  were  led  to  pass  from  flower  to  flower  in  Na- 


1st  DiV.  OF 


NATUEAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


819 


ture's  boundless  parterres, ^'^  and  gather  sweets  from  aU  of 
them. 

47.  "  Nature,"  said  Mr.  Maynard,  "  does  not  teach  us  the 
whole  of  one  science  before  she  imparts  some  knowledge  of 
another.  She  has  given  us  five  senses,  and  it  is  our  duty  so 
to  educate  them  that  they  may  be  faithful  and  '  swift-winged 
messengers'  to  convey  to  the  mind  perceptions^^  of  the  sur- 
rounding world.  The  more  of  these  well-assorted  mental 
stores  are  garnered  up  in  the  chambers  of  thought,  ready  to 
respond  to  the  call  of  memory,  the  greater  the  amount  of  ma- 
terial which  the  mental  powers  will  have  to  work  upon. 

48.  "  Let  no  one,"  said  he,  "compare  the  mind  of  the  child, 
thus  educated,  to  a  reservoir  filled  by  art.  While  every  sys- 
tem of  education  should  be  based  upon  thorough  discipline 
of  the  mental  powers^  I  would  place  before  them  an  abund- 
ance of  the  materials  of  knowledge ;  and  as  ideas  are  recol- 
lected perceptions,  we  may  expect,  other  things  being  equal, 
to  find  the  most  ideas  in  those  who  have  had  the  most  thor- 
ough education  of  the  senses." 

49.  Let  us  profit  by  such  suggestions.  Lideed,  what  ex- 
tent and  variety  of  knowledge  are  required  in  the  teacher  of 
children !  To  be  a  perfect  specimen  —  a  model  teacher  —  all 
Bclence  and  literature  should  be  at  his  command :  he  should 
be  a  master  of  the  art  of  instruction,  and  fascination  should 
dwell  upon  his  lips. 


1  Me-€Uan'-i€-al,  pertaining  to  machines 
and  the  principles  of  mechanics.  Me- 
chanic-^ is  that  science  whicli  treats  of  the 
doctrines  of  motion. 

2  fJiE'-SAK's  Bridge.  This  refers  to  the 
famous  bridge  which  Caesar  built  for 
crossing  the  Rhine  into  Germany. 

3  €at-a-pul'-t\  or  €at'-a-pult,  Bal-lTs'- 
TA,  and  S€6b'-pi-o,  were  warlike  engines 
for  throwing  stones,  darts,  and  javelins 
to  a  distance. 

*  Ar-PRE'-ciATE,  set  a  proper  value  upon. 

^  Mod-i-fi-€a'-tion»,  changes  of  form  em- 
bracing the  same  principles. 

*  In-flex'-i-ble,  that  can  not  be  bent. 

'  l'i;L'-fRCM,  that  by  which  a  lever  is  sus- 
tained, or  the  point  about  which  it  moves. 

8  F6em'-u-la,  a  general  statement  of  a 
principle,  or  general  expression  for  re- 
solving certain  cases  or  problems. 

9  Man'-u-al,  a  small  hand-book  containing 
a  set  of  rules,  principles,  or  directions. 

'0  The-o-eet'-i€-al,  pertaining  to  theory, 
as  opposed  to  practice. 


11  Ax'-is  or  Piv'-OT,  the  point  of  suspension 
on  which  the  lever  turns. 

12  AR-eni-ME'-DEs,  a  famous  mathematician 
and  mechanician  of  antiquity,  born  at 
Syracuse,  in  Sicily.  He  declared  that  if 
he  had  another  earth  on  which  to  place 
his  machines,  he  could  move  that  which 
we  inhabit.  By  the  invention  of  ma- 
chines he  for  a  long  time  defended  Syr- 
acuse on  its  being  besieged  by  the  Ro- 
mans under  Marcellus. 

13  Ten'-siox,  the  straining,  tightness  or 
stretching  caused  by  the  weight  or  power. 

1*  In-€lTned',  tending  downward  in  direc- 
tion. 

15  Ho-Bi'-ZON,  the  level  circle  which  touches 
the  earth  at  the  place  of  the  spectator, 
and  is  bounded  by  the  line  in  which  the 
earth  and  skies  seem  to  meet. 

16  Dis-€Eif.D'-iT,  show  the  error  of;  deprive 
of  credit. 

17  Par-terbes'  (pdr-tdrs),  flower-gardens. 

18  Pee-oep'-tion,  the  notice  which  the  mftid 
takes  of  external  objects. 


320 


willson's  fourth  ueadeb. 


Part  V. 


Fig.  31. 


LESSON  vni. 

MECHANICAL  VOWEBS—Continmi. 

1.  3fr.  M.  The  wheel  and  axle  is,  as 
you  see,  a  U'cer  continually  acting,  and, 
of  course,  its  powers  will  be  estimated 
on  the  same  principle  as  the  lever.  If 
the  circumference  of  the  wheel  is  10 
feet,  and  that  of  the  axle  2  feet,  what 
power ^  applied  at  the  circumference  of 
the  wheel,  will  balance  500  poimds  sus- 
pended from  the  axle  ? 

2.  Frayik.  The  rope  attached  to  the 
weight  will  go  two  feet  in  one  revolution,  which  will  raise 
the  weight  two  feet ;  and  if  we  multiply  the  weight,  500,  by 
its  distance,  2  feet,  we  have  1000.  But  as  the  power,  multi- 
plied by  its  distance,  10,  must  equal  this,  we  have  100  for  an 

answer. 

Mr.  M,  That  is  very  handsomely  explain- 
ed. What  modifications  of  the  xcheel  and 
axle  can  you  name  ? 

John,  The  windlass  seems  to  be,  in  real- 
Fig.  32.  i^y^  ^jje  jgame  thing. 

3.  Frank.  So  is  the  cap- 
stan., used  on  large  vessels 
for  raising  anchors.  It  is 
a  perpendicular  windlass, 
with  holes  in  its  head,  in 
which  capstan-bars  are  put, 
and  many  men  can  work  at 
once. 


Fig.  33. 


Fig.  34. 


George.  Is  not  the  tread-mill, 
sometimes  used  to  raise  a  heavy 
mass  of  iron  for  the  purpose  of 
driving  piles,  or  long  logs  for 
wharves,  a  kind  of  wheel  and 
axle? 


l«t  Div.  OP NATtJBAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


321 


Fig.  35. 


4.  Mr,  M.  It  is  a  wheel  and  axle  made 
to  revolve- by  the  weight  of  several  per- 
sons stepping  constantly  on  the  circum- 
ference of  a  long  wheel.  The  tread- 
wheel  is  often  employed  in  prisons  as  a 
means  of  driving  machinery,  where  the 
rogues,  as  they  turn  the  wheel,  can  sing, 

"They've  built  us  up  a  noble  wall, 
To  keep  the  vulgar  out : 
We've  nothing  in  the  world  to  do 
But  just  to  walk  about." 

Next  we  must  talk  about  the  icedge^  which  is  reckoned  as 
two  inclined  planes.  Give  me  some  examples  of  the  use  of 
this  modified  mechanical  power. 

5.  Ida.  Nails,  knives,  needles,  axes,  hatchets,  chisels,  razors^ 
swords,  and  scissors. 

JElla.  Then  scissors  are  both  levers  and 
inclined  planes. 

Ml'.  M.  You  have  named  but  few  of 
the    applications    of  this    power.      The 
wedge  is  commonly  employed  in  split- 
ting wood,  rocks,  etc.     A  thin  wedge  re- 
^   quires  less  power  to  move  it  forward 
?ljj^^  than  a  thick  one.     Can  you  give  me  one 
lig.  36.'  of  the  most  surprising  instances  of  the 

power  gained  by  the  use  of  the  wedge  ? 

6.  FrcmJc.  I  think  its  use  in  the  supporting  and  launching 
of  ships  is  certainly  very  surprising. 

JElla.  Oh !  I  should  be  so  delighted  to  understand  how  a 
ship  is  launched.  I  have  just  read  and  learned  Longfellow's 
beautiful  description  of  the  ^'•Building  of  the  Ship.^"* 

Mr.  M.  Then  you  may  repeat  it  if  you  please. 

Ella.  I  am  not  certain  that  I  shall  get  all  the  words  right, 
but  I  will  try. 

7.  *'  Then  the  master, 

With  gesture  of  command 
Waved  his  hand ; 
And  at  the  word, 

Loud  and  sudden  there  was  heard, 
O  2 


322  WILLSON's  fourth  BEADEK.  Part  V. 

All  around  them,  and  below, 

The  sound  of  hammers,  blow  on  blow, 

Knocking  away  the  shores  and  spurs. 

And  see  !  she  stirs ! 
She  starts — she  moves — she  seems  to  feel 
The  thrill  of  life  along  her  keel. 
And,  spurning  with  her  foot  the  ground, 
With  one  exulting,  joyous  bound. 
She  leaps  into  the  ocean's  arms." 

8.  Mr,  M,  The  very  lines  seem  almost  enough  to  start  the 
vessel  from  her  ways/  but  the  reality  is  a  little  more  prosaic.^ 

The  weight  of  the  ship  you  see 
in  the  picture  is  supported  on 
blocks  and  wedges  under  the 
keel.3  Along  the  sides  are 
smooth  timbers,  at  an  inclina- 
tion sufficient  to  enable  the  ves- 
sel to  slide  when  the  weight 
comes  on  to  the  sliding  planks, 
by  means  of  a  frame  or  cradle 
I'ig-  3T.  fitted  to  the  form  of  the  ship. 

9.  The  ways  being  well  greased,  the  blocks  and  wedges 
which  had  been  supporting  the  ship  are  driven  out  from  under 
the  keel,  until  the  whole  weight  gradually  rests  upon  the  slid- 
ing ways  or  cradle,  when  the  noble  structure,  from  its  own 
weight,  glides  into  the  water.  The  screw  alone  remains  of  the 
mechanical  powers,  and  this  is  only  a  spiral*  inclined  plane. 

10.  John.  Is  the  screw  a  simple  machine? 

Mr.  M.  The  screw  is  placed  under  the  head  of  simple  ma- 
chines, but  can  not  be  used  without  the  application  of  a  lever 
or  some  other  contrivance,  when  it  becomes  a  compound  en- 
gine of  great  power,  either  in  pressing  bodies  closer  together, 
or  in  raising  great  weights. 

George.  I  do  not  see  how  the  screw  is  an  inclined  plane. 
Will  you  please  explain  it  ? 

11.  Mr.  M.  That  will  be  evident  if  you  wind  the  triangu- 

g  lar  piece  of  paper,  5,  i,  around  the  pencil  or  cyl- 
^^_J|  inder,  a,  a.     Do  you  not  see  that  the  upper  edge 

~ — ^ p  of  the  paper  continues  around  the  pencil  from 

Fig.  8s.    **  bottom  to  top  ? 


1st  DiV.  OF 


NATURAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


323 


George.  Yes,  sir,  it  is  very  plain. 

Ella.  The  upper  edge  of  the  paper,  which  certainly  repre- 
sents an  inclined  plane.,  coincides  with  the  screw.  And  now 
I  see  that  our  winding  stairs  may  be  called  a  large  screw. 

12.  Mr.  M.  True,  common  stairs  may  be  considered  as  an 
inclined  plane,  with  notches  to  keep  the  feet  fi'om  slipping, 
and  the  winding  of  the  plane  makes  a  screw.     In  this  case 

people  walk  on  the  threads  of 
the  screw,  but  commonly  the 
screw  itself  is  turned.  It  con- 
sists of  two  parts.  In  the  fig- 
ure which  I  here  show  you,  a, 
a,  is  called  the  screw  /  c,  c,  the 
nut ;  and  5,  the  lever. 

13.  John.  I  see,  if  the  screw 


is  turned  one 


way. 


it  will  be 


Fig.  33. 


raised  from  the  nut  a  distance 
equal  to  that  between  the  turns 
or  threads.,  while  if  it  is  turned 
the  other  way  it  will  be  lowered  the  same  distance.  I  would 
like  to  know  how  the  power  gained  by  its  use  is  calculated. 

14.  Mr.M.  Well,suppose  the  distance  between  the  threads 
to  be  one  inch.,  and  the  length  of  the  lever  five  feet^  what 
pressure  can  be  exerted  if  a  power  of  ten  pounds  be  applied 
at  the  end  of  the  handle  ? 

George.  Surely  this  can  not  be  difficult,  for  the  distance  in 
inches  which  the  handle  moves, 
multiplied  by  the  power,  ten 
pounds,  must  be  equal  to  the  one 
inch  which  the  screw  moves,  mul- 
tiplied by  the  number  of  pounds' 
pressure.* 

15.  3fr.  M.  I  am  glad  you  un- 
derstand the  beautiful  simplicity 
of  the  formula  I  gave  you  in  the 
*'is-  40.  last  conversation. 


*  The  distance  described  by  the  power  must  be  ten  feet  in  diameter,  or  31.416  feet  in 
circumference,  which,  multiplied  by  the  power  10,  will  give  314.16.  Divide  this  by  one 
iich,  or  one  twelfth  of  a  foot,  and  we  obtain  3769.92  pounds  for  the  pressure  exerted  by 
a  power  of  ten  pounds. 


324  willson's  fourth  eeadeb.  Part  v. 

John.  I  have  heard  of  an  endless  screw,  but  I  do  not  exact- 
ly understand  its  arrangement. 

16.  Mr.  M.  When  the  screw  is  applied  to  a  toothed  wheel, 
it  is  called  2i  perpetual  or  endless  screw,  as  it  constantly  moves 
in  one  direction,  and  keeps  the  wheel  moving  round.  I  pre- 
sume, by  a  little  study,  you  could  calculate  its  power.* 

Frank.  The  screw  must  be  a  power  of  very  extensive  ap- 
phcation.     It  even  propels  large  vessels  round  the  world. 

17.  Ida.  I  suppose  it  was  this  application  of  the  power 
that  uncle  John  had  in  mind  w^hen  he  said  Englaiid  and 
America  were  held  together  by  screws. 

Mr.  M.  Politically  as  well  as  mechanically,  this  is  a  most 
important  and  powerful  application  of  the  screw.  Do  you 
understand  the  mode  of  its  application  to  the  propulsion^  of 
ships  ? 

18.  FranJc.  I  have  seen  a  vessel  in  a  dry  dock,  and,  as  the 
water  was  withdrawn,  had  a  good  opportunity  to  see  how  tho 
enormous  screw,  or  rather  part  of  a  screw,  was  fixed.     A 

piece  of  iron,  called  a  shaft,  came  through 

the  timbers,  and  the  blades  composing  the 

screw  were  attached  to  the  end  of  it ;  and 

any  one  could  see  that  by  turning,  it  would 

push  against  the  water,  and  by  the  reaction 

would  propel  or  push  forward  the  vessel. 

^'^■*^-  19.  3fr.M.  The  screw  of  the  steam-ship 

Great  Britain  was  fifteen  feet  in  diameter,  and  it  was  turned 

by  a  power  reckoned  equal  to  a  thousand  horses.     Have  you 

heard  of  any  other  remarkable  application  of  this  power  ? 

John.  I  have  read  of  light-houses  constructed  on  piles 
screwed  down  firmly  into  the  sand. 

George.  There  is  also  a  kind  oip>iimp.,  called  Archimedes' 
Screw,  which  I  would  hke  very  much  to  understand. 


*  If  the  winch,  or  handle,  be  20  inches  long,  and  the  screw  2  inch- 
es in  diameter,  there  is  evidently  a  power  of  20  gained  ;  then,  if  the 
wheel  have  30  teeth,  and  the  screw  at  each  revolution  throws  off  1 
tooth,  this  is  a  power  of  '6-  gained,  which  multiplied  by  20,  the 
other  power,  gives  a  power  of  600.  Again,  say  tliat  the  cylinder 
which  supports  the  weight  is  only  half  the  diameter  of  the  wheel, 
that  is  an  additional  power  of  2  to  1,  by  which  multiply  the  former 
power,  and  the  reault  is  1200  as  the  power  gained  by  this  machine, 


1st  DiV.  OP NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY.  325 

20.  Mr.  M.  This  pump  will  be  explained  when  we  come 
to  the  subject  of  Hydraulics.^  We  have  now  treated  of  the 
three  primary  and  the  three  modified  or  compound  mechan- 
•ical  powers.  I  think,  from  the  readiness  of  your  answers, 
that  you  understand  enough  of  them  to  enable  you  to  make 
any  ordinary  calculations  pertaining  to  machinery.  Our  next 
conversation  will  be  miscellaneous  mechanical  matters. 

1  Ways,  the  timbers  on  which  a  vessel  is  I    tending  from  stem  to  stern  at  the  bottom, 
launched.  and  supporting  the  whole  frame. 

2  Peo-sa'-i€,  pertaining  to  prose,  hence  less  *  SpI'-ral,  winding  like  a  screw. 


interesting  than   a   poetical  description 
would  indicate. 
3  Keel,  the  principal  timber  in  a  ship,  ex- 


Peo-pul'-sion,  the  act  of  driving  forward. 
6  Hy-deaul'-ic8,  that   branch   of   Natural 
Philosophy  which  treats  of  fluids  consid- 
ered as  in  motion.     See  Fifth  Reader. 


LESSON  IX. 
MISCELLANEOUS  MECHANICAL  MATTERS. 

1.  Mr.  M.  In  our  last  conversation  we  discussed  the  law 
of  equilibrium^  of  the  mechanical  powers,  as  it  is  in  theory ; 
but  when  we  make  a  practical  application  of  these  powers, 
a  deduction^  must  be  made  for  friction,  or  the  rubbing  of  sur- 
faces against  each  other.  Will  each  of  you  name  some  in- 
stance of  the  utility^  of  friction. 

2.  Joh7i.  The  bands  that  turn  the  wheels  of  mills  and  fac- 
tories are  kept  from  slipping  by  friction. 

George.  The  cars  are  drawn  over  the  railroad  by  the  fric- 
tion of  the  large,  or  driving  wheels  of  the  locomotive,  and 
when  they  slip  round,  as  they  sometimes  do  in  starting,  I 
nave  seen  the  engineer  throw  sand  on  the  rails  to  increase 
the  friction. 

3.  Fraifik,.  When  the  engineer  wishes  to  stop  the  cars,  he 
blows  the  whistle  as  a  signal,  and  the  brakeman  turns  a 
wheel,  which  brings  a  rubber  against  the  car- wheels,  and  they 
are  soon  stopped  by  friction. 

Ida.  If  there  is  any  utility  in  dancing,  I  can  give  an  in- 
stance of  the  utility  of  friction  in  the  chalk  which  is  some- 
times put  so  grotesquely*  on  the  floors  of  dancing-halls. 

4.  Ella.  The  friction  caused  by  ashes  tHrown  on  icy  side- 
walks is  certainly  useful. 


326  willson's  fourth  reader.  Part  V. 

Mr.  M.  It  would  be  difficult  for  you  to  name  any  of  the 
ordinary  occupations  of  life  without  giving  an  instance  of  the 
utility  of  friction.  It  holds  the  nails  and  screws  in  our  houses, 
enables  us  to  walk,  and  even  to  hold  knives,  pencils,  and 
books  in  our  hands.  It  is  increased  by  roughness,  and  it  has 
been  found  that  there  is  more  friction  between  pieces  of  metal 
of  the  same  kind,  than  between  similar  pieces  of  different 
metals. 

5.  Franh.  I  wonder  if  that  was  the  reason  why  Juno's 
chariot  wheels  were  of  brass,  and  the  axle  of  iron  or  steel. 
Homer,  who  is  good  authority  on  such  matters,  says, 

"  Hebe  to  the  chariot  roll'd 
The  brazen  wheels,  and  joined  them  to  the  smooth 
Steel  axle.^'' 

6.  Mr.  M.  If  I  may  add  to  Master  Frank's  classical  allu- 
sions, I  will  mention  that  the  gates  of  the  infernal  regions, 
according  to  Homer  were  of  iro7i,  and  the  threshold  of  brass  / 
though,  if  I  recollect  correctly,  Virgil  says  "  they  are  open 
night  and  day." 

7.  John.  I  know  that  all  machinists  say  that  surfaces  of 
brass  and  steel  move  upon  each  other  easier  than  when  both 
are  alike. 

Frank.  That  is  just  what  the  engineer  of  a  steam-ship  said 
when  I  was  on  board,  and  asked  why  he  was  using  what  he 
called  a7iti-attrition^  metal,  made  from  copper,  antimony,  and 
tin. 

8.  Ida.  I  see  now  why  a  jeweled  watch  is  better  than  a 
common  one.     The  friction  is  less. 

Mia.  When  we  apply  oil  to  our  sewing  machines,  I  suppose 
it  must  be  to  diminish  friction. 

9.  Mr.  M.  You  have  an  excellent  habit  of  observation, 
which  saves  me  much  time  and  trouble  in  giving  illustrations 
and  experiments.  Useful  as  friction  is,  we  sometimes  try  to 
avoid  it,  as  in  putting  wheels  under  loads  to  be  transported, 
and  casters  or  rollers  on  tables  and  other  articles  of  furniture. 

10.  John.  I  would  like  to  ask  a  question.  May  not  the 
pulley  be  regarded  as  a  modification  of  the  lever  ? 

Mr.  M.  The  wheel  we  call  the  pulley  may  be  so  considered, 
but,  taken  as  a  whole,  the  cord  and  wheel  may  be  called  the 


J«t  DiV.  OF NATURAL   PHILOSOPHY.  327 

pulley^  though  the  term  cord  would  be  more  proper.  Now, 
as  we  are  approaching  the  conchision  of  the  department  of 
Philosophy  called  Mechanics,  I  would  suggest  that  each  one 
of  you  propose  a  question  involving  some  of  the  principles 
which  have  formed  the  topics  of  our  conversations. 

11.  Frank.  I  am  really  glad  to  have  such  an  opportunity 
to  get  a  solution'^  of  my  own  difficulties  and  those  of  my 
classmates.  I  would  like  to  ask  if  it  is  possible  to  construct 
a  machine  which,  when  put  in  motion,  will  never  stop  till  it 
is  worn  out. 

12.  Mr.  M.  In  other  words,  2^  perpetual  motion.  Thou- 
sands of  dollars  have  been  uselessly  spent  in  vain  attempts  to 
accomplish  it.  I  will  reply  to  your  very  proper  question  by 
reading  a  brief  extract  from  Professor  Loomis's  Natural  Phi- 
losophy.    He  says, 

"By  perpetual  motion  in  mechanics  we''imderstand  a  mor 
chine  which  moves  without  ceasing^  and  requires  no  new  ap- 
plication of  force  from  without.  A  machine  which  renews 
itself  (as,  for  example,  a  watch  which  runs  for  24  hours,  and 
then  winds  itself  up^  so  as  to  be  ready  to  run  another  24 
hours,  without  any  assistance  from  beyond  itself)  would  be 
such  a  perpetual  motion  as  has  been  long  sought  for  by  vi- 
sionary inventors.  A  machine  of  this  kind  is  impossible.,  be- 
cause no  combination  of  machinery  produces  any  positive  in- 
crease of  power." 

13.  A  great  many  machines  have  been  proposed  for  pro- 
ducing perpetual  motion.  Here  is  a  draw- 
ing of  one  of  them — a  large  wheel,  carrying 
twelve  equal  arms,  each  movable  on  a  hinge, 
and  having  at  its  extremity  a  heavy  ball. 

c  a=**\    y    J^  But  all  machines  for  perpetual  motion  have 

failed,  unless  sustained  by  expansion  and 

contraction  from  change  of  temperature,  or 

Fig.  42.  electricaP  action  in  some  way ;  and  when 

the  motion  is  thus  sustained,  it  is  no  more  perpetual  motion 

than  the  paper-mill  at  Niagara  Falls. 

14.  Frank.  The  reply  satisfies  me  fully,  and  I  shall  report 
it  to  a  good  neighbor  of  ©urs  who  is  constantly  engaged  in 
efforts  to  produce  a  perpetual  motion. 


328  WILLSON's  fourth  header.  Part  V. 

John.  I  would  like  to  understand  what  is  meant  by  a 
horse-power  and  a  xinit  of  work. 

15.  Mr.  M.  What  is  called  a  unit  of  work  is  the  labor  ex- 
pended in  raising  one  pound  of  matter  07ie  foot  in  height,  in 
opposition  to  gravity.  The  eminent  engineer  Watt  estimated 
that  a  horse  could  perform  33,000  units  of  work  in  a  minute ; 
in  other  words,  that  a  horse  could  raise  33,000  pounds  to  the 
height  of  one  foot  in  a  minute  of  time,  or  one  pound  to  the 
height  of  33,000  feet.  To  see  if  you  understand  my  reply,  I 
will  propose  a  question.  How  many  horses'  power  will  be 
required  to  raise  500  pounds  of  coal  per  minute  from  a  pit 
330  feet  deep? 

16.  John.  The  amount  of  work  consists  of  the  power  mul- 
tiplied by  the  distance  ;  therefore  500  pounds  raised  330  feet 
will  be  165,000  units  of  work.  A  horse  can  perform  33,000 
of  these  units  in  a  ftiinute ;  therefore  I  divide  the  whole  num- 
ber of  units  by  33,000,  and  get  for  an  answer  5  horses'  power. 

Mr.  M.  John  has  answered  admirably.  What  question 
has  George  ? 

George.  I  wish  to  know  if  the  large  hind  wheels  of  a  car- 
riage tend  to  push  forward  the  small  fore  wheels. 

17.  Mr.  M.  They  do  not;  hence  the  wheels  of  railroad 
cars  are  made  of  the  same  size.  In  carriages  it  is  convenient 
to  have  the  fore-wheels  smaller,  on  account  of  turning  the 
carriage  more  easily,  and  often  for  facility  in  getting  into  and 
out  of  them.  Besides,  the  line  of  traction^  or  draft,  should 
extend  to  a  point  lower  than  the  horse's  breast,  otherwise  the 
collar  by  which  he  draws  will  rise  up  and  choke  him,  which 
would  be  very  inconvenient  for  all  concerned. 

Ida.  My  question  is  one  which  I  never  could  understand. 
Why  can  ships  sail  in  opposite  directions  when  driven  by  the 
same  wind  ? 

18.  Mr.M.  I  will  try  to  make  the  matter  plain  to  you. 
On  the  opposite  page  is  a  drawing  in  which  you  will  see  the 
direction  of  several  ships,  and  the  position  in  which  the  wind 
strikes  against  the  sails.  The  wind,  which  is  here  represent- 
ed as  blowing  from  the  north,  strikes  directly  against  the 
ship  at  m,  and  she  is  scudding.,  oi;  sailing  before  the  windy 
in  the  same  direction  the  wind  blows.     In  all  the  other  ves- 


1st  Div.  OP NATUEAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


b29 


aka 


sels  the  sails  receive  the 
wind  obhquely,  or  not  at 
right  angles  with  the  keel. 

19.  The  wind,  blowing     ^^^ 
against  the  sail  of  the  ship    '^jt^ 
at  /*,  the  keel  being  kept  m^^, 
in  the  same  direction  by 
the  rudder,  is  resolved  into 
two  forces,  one  of  which 
tends  to  drive  the  vessel 
ahead,  and  the  other  to 
push  her  sideways.    If  the 
vessel  were  in  the  form 
of  a  tub,  she  would  move 
toward  A,  or  in  the  diagonal  of  a  square,  provided  the  sail 
could  be  kept  so  as  to  receive  the  wind  as  shown  at/l 

20.  Vessels  are  not  round,  but  long ;  so  it  requires  much 
more  force  to  push  them  sideways  than  forward.  By  a  prop- 
er management  of  the  rudder,  not  shown  in -the  figure,  the 
ship  can  be  made  to  sail  almost  against  the  wind.  When 
sailing  as  nearly  opposite  or  against  the  wind  as  possible,  the 
ship  is  said  to  be  close  hauled,  as  those  marked  a  and  b. 

21.  Ida.  The  whole  matter  seems  very  plain  to  me  now. 
JEJlla.  I  fear  I  shall  not  so  easily  understand  the  answer  to 

my  question,  as  it  is  perhaps  beyond  the  capacity  of  a  little 
girl ;  but  no  question  is  too  hard  to  aslc.  Ever  since  I  heard 
that  philosophers  had  weighed  the  earth,  I  have  been  anxious 
to  know  how  it  was  done. 

22.  Mr.  M.  To  understand  the  method  pursued  by  those 
who  have  weighed  the  earth  will  require  a  fuller  explanation 
than  I  have  given  of  the  action  of  gravity.  Every  particle 
of  matter  attracts  every  other  particle,  as  you  have  learned ; 
but  the  attraction  is  rapidly  diminished  as  the  distance  in- 
creases. It  is  inversely^^  as  the  square  of  the  distance — that 
is,  at  tioice  the  earth's  radius^^  from  its  centre  gravity  is  one 
fourth  what  it  is  at  the  surface.  In  other  words,  a  pound  of 
matter,  as  weighed  at  the  surface,  would  weigh  only  four 
ounces  4000  miles  above  the  surface. 

23.  If  a  lead  ball  were  to  hang  from  the  top  of  a  tower,  it 


330  WILLSOn's  fourth  eeadee.  Past  V. 

would  be  attracted  a  little  toward  the  tower  as  well  as  a 
great  deal  toward  the  earth.  Now  if  I  can  find  how  much 
the  tower  attracts  the  ball,  also  the  weight  of  the  tower  and 
the  position  of  its  centre  of  gravity^  as  I  know  the  distance 
of  the  eartKs  centre  of  gravity^  I  can  find  the  weight  of  the 
earth. 

Do  you  understand  how  f 

Ella.  I  confess  I  am  as  much  perplexed  as  ever. 

24.  Mr.  M.  I  did  not  expect  you  to  understand  with  so 
slight  an  explanation,  and  am  glad  to  hear  you  frankly  admit 
that  you  do  not.  That  is  the  way  to  learn.  If  there  were 
two  globes  of  equal  weight,  as  two  earths,  for  instance,  and 
a  ball  were  suspended  from  some  distant  point  so  as  to  be 
only  under  the  influence  of  the  two  spheres,^^  toward  which 
would  it  hang  ? 

Ella.  Toward  neither,  but  half  way  between  them. 

25.  Mr.  M.  You  will  soon  see,  then,  how  the  earth  is 
weighed.  Let  us  suppose  the  spheres  unequal ;  you  must 
understand  that  the  ball  would  hang  nearer  the  heavier 
sphere,  but  still  between  them.  If  you  knew  the  weight  of 
OTie  sphere,  and  the  distance  apart  of  the  centres  of  hoth^  and 
how  much  nearer  the  ball  hung  to  one  than  to  the  other, 
could  you  find  the  weight  of  the  other  9 

26.  Ella.  I  think  I  see  now  how  it  could  be  done,  and 
how  the  earth  could  be  weighed  by  these  principles  ;  for,  if 
we  have  the  weight  of  one  sphere,  its  distance  from  the  little 
ball,  and  the  power  exerted  by  it  on  the  ball,  we  know  that 
the  power  exerted  by  the  earth  must  bear  a  similar  propor- 
tion to  its  weight  and  distance.  It  does  not  appear  to  me 
half  so  surprising  as  it  did  before  that  philosophers  can  weigh 
the  earth;  but  it  seems  more  and  more  wonderful  that  all 
things  are  governed  by  laws  so  fixed  and  uniform. 

27.  Mr.  M.  And  the  more  you  study  Natural  Philosophy, 
the  more  plain  and  simple  will  its  principles  seem  to  you,  and 
the  more  enlarged  will  become  your  views  of  the  works  of  the 
Creator.  The  mind  that  comprehends  the  wonderful  laws, 
so  sublimely  simple  and  beautiful,  that  regulate  the  vast  uni- 
verse of  worlds,  must  ever  be  deeply  impressed  with  the  con- 
viction that  there  is  a  great  and  overruling  mind  which  plan- 


1st  DiV.  OF NATUEAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


331 


ned  them  all,  and  which  still  keeps  them  in  harmonious  ac- 
tion. It  is  impossible  for  a  true  philosopher  to  doubt  the  ex- 
istence of  a  God. 

28.  Here  Mr.  Maynard  informed  the  class  that,  as  they  had 
now  gone  over  the  first  great  division  of  subjects  embraced 
in  Natural  Philosophy,  he  would  bring  these  conversations  to 
a  close ;  but  he  hoped  to  resume  them  after  a  few  months, 
when  subjects  of  still  greater  interest  and  more  variety,  in  the 
same  important  field,  would  be  presented  to  them. 

29.  He  remarked  that  they  were  but  just  entering  upon  the 
study  of  Nature's  laws,  and  hoped  they  would  not  think  they 
had  done  any  thing  more  than  just  to  make  a  beginning. 
"  The  more  you  learn,"  said  he,  "  the  more  you  will  find  there 
is  to  be  learned ;  and  if  you  are  at  all  disposed  to  vanity,  the 
less  vain  will  you  be  of  your  own  attainments.  Much  knowl- 
edge will  always  cause,  in  a  sensible  person,  a  feeling  of  hu- 
mility, in  view  of  how  little  he  can  hope  to  know  in  this 
world,  even  after  a  long  life  spent  in  study,  compared  with 
what  will  still  be  unknown. 

30.  "  This  principle  is  well  illustrated,"  said  Mr.  Maynard, 
•'  in  the  words  spoken  by  that  eminent  philosopher  and  true 
Christian,  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  a  short  time  before  his  death. 
•  I  do  not  know,'  said  he,  '  what  I  may  appear  to  the  world ; 
but  to  myself  I  seem  to  have  been  only  likQ  a  child  playing 
on  the  sea-shore,  and  diverting  myself  in  now  and  then  find- 
ing a  prettier  pebble  or  shell  than  ordinary,  while  the  great 
ocean  of  truth  lay  all  unexplored  before  me.'  If  the  great 
Newton,  with  his  powerful  intellect,  and  after  devoting  a  life- 
time to  the  study  of  Nature's  laws  (which  are  none  other 
than  the  laws  of  God),  could  utter  such  a  sentiment,  how 
much  more  becoming  are  modesty  and  humility  in  us." 


1  E-qtfi-lTb'-ri-ttm,  a  state  of  rest  produced 
by  the  mutual  counteraction  of  two  or 
more  forces. 

2  De-du€'-tion,  allowance ;  abatement. 
'  U-til''-i-ty,  usefulness. 

*  Gbo-tesque'-lt,  in  a  fantastic  manner. 

»  €lab'-si€-al,  relating  to  Greek  and  Ro- 
man authors  of  the  first  rank  or  estimation. 

fi  At-tbi"-tion  means  the  act  of  wearing  by 
friction  ;  and  anti  -  attrition  means  not 
7i;earing  by  friction. 

'  So-Lij'-TION,  explanation. 


8  E-LEC'-TRi^-.^L,  pertaining  to  electricity. 

9  Tr.\€'-tion,  the  act  of  drawing,  or  state 
of  being  drawn. 

10  In-vkrse'-ly,  in  an  inverted  order.  A 
term  used  when  one  quantity  is  greater 
as  another  is  less,  or  less  as  another  is 
greater. 

'1  Ka'-di-us,  a  line  extending  from  the  cen- 
tre of  a  circle  to  its  circumference.  The 
earth's  radius  is  half  the  earth's  diameter. 

12  Sphere,  a  solid  body  in  the  form  of  a 
round  ball. 


332 


WtLLSON'S   FOUETH   EEADEE. 


Paet  VI. 


PAET  VL 

SKETCHES  FEOM  SACEED  HISTORY. 

[Continued  from  the  Third  Reader.] 


"  Give  me  understanding,  and  I  shall  keep  thy  law  j  yea,  I  shall  observe 
it  with  my  whole  heart." — Psalm  cxix.,  34. 

"Blessed  is  he  that  readeth,  and  they  that  hear  the  words  of  this  proph- 
ecy, and  keep  those  things  which  are  written  therein." — i?ey.,  i.,  3. 


Pabt  VI.  SKETCHES   FROM   SACEED    HISTOEY.  333 


LESSON  I. 

THE  CURSE  QF  CAIN. 

1.  It  was  after  our  first  parents  had  been  driven  forth  from 
the  garden  of  Eden,  and  while  they  were  still  living,  that  the 
first  great  crime  that  stains  the  annals^  of  our  race  was  com- 
mitted. Cain  and  Abel  were  the  two  sons  of  Adam  and 
Eve ;  and  Cain  was  a  tiller  of  the  ground,  but  Abel  was  a 
keeper  of  sheep. 

2.  In  temper  and  disposition  the  two  brothers  were  as 
difierent  as  their  occupations;  for  while  Abel  was  meek, 
humble,  and  pious,  Cain  i^  haughty,  envious,  and  revenge- 
ful. When  they  brought  their  customary  sacrifices  before 
the  Lord,  the  Lord  had  respect  to  Abel  and  to  his  offering ; 
but  unto  Cain  and  his  offering  the  Lord  had  not  respect. 

3.  Then  was  Cain  angry;  and  he  talked  with  Abel  his 
brother ;  and  it  came  to  pass,  when  they  were  in  the  field, 
that  Cain  rose  up  against  Abel,  and  slew  him.  And  the  Lord 
said  unto  Cain,  Where  is  Abel  thy  brother^  ?  And  he  said, 
I  know  not :  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper'  ? 

4.  And  the  Lord  said',  What  hast  thou  done^  ?  The  voice 
of  thy  brother's  blood  crieth  imto  me  from  the  ground.  And 
now  art  thou  cursed  from  the  earth,  which  hath  opened  her 
mouth  to  receive  thy  brother's  blood  from  thy  hand.  When 
thou  tillest  the  ground,  it  shall  not  henceforth  yield  unto  thee 
her  strength.  A  fugitive  and  a  vagabond  shalt  thou  be  in 
the  earth. 

5.  Thus  was  Cain  cursed,  and  driven  away  from  his  friends 
and  kindred.  And  he  "  went  out  from  the  presence  of  the 
Lord,  and  dwelt  in  the  land  of  Nod,  on  the  east  of  Eden." 

The  CuESE  OF  Cain  has  been  thus  described : 

6.  O,  the  wrath  of  the  Lord  is  a  terrible  thing ! — 
Like  the  tempest  that  withers  the  blossoms  of  spring, 
Like  the  thunder  ihi.    ibursts  on  the  summer's  domain, 
It  fell  on  the  head  of  the  homicide^  Cain. 

7.  And,  lo !  like  a  deer  in  the  fright  of  the  chase, 
With  a  fire  in  his  heart,  and  a  brand^  on  his  face, 


334  WILLSOn's  fourth  reader.  Part  VI. 

He  speeds  him  afar  to  the  desert  of  Nod, 

A  vagabond,  smote  by  the  vengeance  of  God  ! 

8.  All  nature,  to  him,  has  been  blasted  and  banned,  * 
And  the  blood  of  a  brother  yet  reeks  on  his  hand ; 
And  no  vintage  has  grown,  and  no  fountain  has  sprung, 
For  cheering  his  heart,  or  for  cooling  his  tongue. 

9.  The  groans  of  a  father  his  slumber  shall  start. 
And  the  tears  of  a  mother  shall  pierce  to  his  heart. 
And  the  kiss  of  his  children  shall  scorch  him  like  flame, 
When  he  thinks  of  the  cufse  that  hangs  over  his  name. 

10.  And  the  wife  of  his  bosom — the  faithful  and  fair — 
Can  mix  no  sweet  drop  in  his  cup  of  despair ; 

For  her  tender  caress,  and  her  innocent  breath, 
But  stir  in  his  soul  the  hot  embers  of  death. 

1 1 .  And  his  offering  may  blaze  unr^||ftrded  by  Heaven ; 
And  his  spirit  may  pray,  yet  remain  unforgiven ; 

And  his  grave  may  be  closed,  yet  no  rest  to  him  bring ; — 

O,  the  wrath  of  the  Lord  is  a  terrible  thing  !  Knox. 

1  an'-nals,  records  of  events.  1 3  Brand,  a  mark  burnt  in. 

*  H6m'-i-oide,  a  person  who  kills  another.    |*  Ban'nep,  cursed. 


LESSON  11. 
HAGAR  m  THE  WILDERNESS. 

1.  It  was  several  hundred  years  after  the  time  of  Cain  that 
the  wicked  were  destroyed  by  a  flood,  an  account  of  which 
is  given  in  the  seventh  chapter  of  Genesis.  Then  follows  the 
history  of  Noah  and  his  sons,  the  building  of  the  tower  of 
Babel,  the  calling  of  Abraham,  and  the  destruction  of  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah. 

2.  Although  Isaac,  the  younger  son  of  Abraham,  was  the 
child  of  promise,  in  whom  "  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  to 
be  blessed,"  yet  Abraham  had  an  elder  son  Ishmael,  who  was 
born  of  Hagar  the  Egyptian,  the  bond-maid  of  his  wife  Sarah. 
But  Ishmael  was  jealous  of  Isaac,  who  had  destroyed  his 
hopes  of  inheriting  his  father's  rank  and  property ;  and  when 
Sarah  saw  Ishmael  mocking  her  sr*i  Isaac,  she  said  to  Abra- 
ham, "  Cast  out  this  bond-woman  and  her  son." 

3.  Then  Abraham,  being  directed  by  the  Lord,  rose  up 
early  in  the  morning,  and  took  bread,  and  a  bottle  of  water, 


Part  VI. 


SKETCHES   EEOM   SACEED   HISTORF. 


335 


and  gave  it  unto  Hagar  and  the  child,  and  sent  them  away. 
We  can  well  imagine  the  feelings  of  sadness  with  which  the 
aged  patriarch  parted  with  these  members  of  his  household, 
and  how  he  turned  him  to  his  tent  in  sorrow  as  the  dejected 
Hagar  took  her  departure.  How  beautifully  do  the  following 
lines  describe  this  parting  scene : 


*'  Why  bends  the  patriarch  as  he  cometh  noAv 
Upon  his  staff  so  wearily  ?     His  beard 
Is  low  upon  his  breast ;  and  his  high  brow, 
So  written  with  the  converse^  of  his  God, 
Beareth  the  swollen  vein  of  agony. 
His  lip  is  quivering,  and  his  wonted'^  step 
^  Of  vigor  is  not  there  ;  and  though  the  morn 

Is  passing  fair  and  beautiful,  he  breathes 
Its  freshness  as  it  were  a  pestilence. 
He  gave  to  her  the  water  and  the  bread, 
But  spoke  no  word,  and  trusted  not  himself 
To  look  upon  her  face,  but  laid  his  hand 
In  silent  blessing  on  the  fair-hair'd  boy, 
And  left  her  to  her  lot  of  loneliness." 

4.  And  Hagar  departed,  and  wandered  in  the  Wilderness 
of  Beer-sheba.     And  when  the  water  was  spent  in  the  bottle^ 


336  WILLSON's  FOUETH  BEADER.  Part  VI. 

and  Ishmael  was  sore  athirst,  and  his  blue  eyes  were  dim  and 
bloodshot,  she  bore  him  in  her  arms,  and  laid  his  head 

*'  Beneath  the  shadow  of  a  desert  shrub; 

*  And,  shrouding^  up  her  face,  she  went  away, 
And  sat  to  watch,  where  he  could  see  her  not, 
Till  he  should  die ;  and,  watching  him,  she  moum'd : 


% 


5.      *'  God  stay  thee  in  thine  agony,  my  boy^ ! 
I  can  not  see  thee  die^ ;  I  can  not  brook* 

Upon  thy  brow  to  look, 
And  see  death  settle  on  my  cradle  joy\ 
How  have  I  drunk  the  light  of  thy  blue  eye^ ! 

And  could  I  see  thee  die'  ? 

6. ,   "I  did  not  dream  of  this  when  thou  wast  straying, 
Like  an  unbound  gazelle,  among  the  flowers ; 

Or  whiling*  the  soft  hours, 
By  the  rich  gush  of  water-sources  playing, 
Then  sinking  weary  to  thy  smiling  sleep. 

So  beautiful  and  deep. 

7.  "Oh  no^ !  and  when  I  watch'd  by  thee  the  while, 

And  saw  thy  bright  lip  curling  in  thy  dream, 

And  thought  of  the  dark  stream 
In  my  own  land  of  Egypt,  the  far  Nile', 
How  pray'd  I  that  my  father's  land  might  be 
A  heritage^  for  thee^ ! 

8.  **  And  now  the  grave  for  its  cold  breast  hath  won  thee' ! 

And  thy  white,  delicate  limbs  the  earth  will  press^ ; 

And  oh !  my  Last  caress 
Must  feel  thee  cold\  for  a  chill  hand  is  on  thee\ 
How  can  I  leave  my  boy,  so  i)illow'd''  there 

Upon  his  clustering  hair^ !" 


Part  VI. 


SKETCHES   FROM   SACRED    HISTORY. 


337 


9.  And  the  angel  of  God  called  to  Hagar  out  of  heaven, 
and  said  unto  her,  "  What  aileth  thee,  Hagar'  ?  Arise,  lift 
up  the  lad,  and  hold  him  in  thine  hand,  for  I  will  make  him  a 
great  nation."  And  God  opened  her  eyes,  and  she  saw  a 
well  of  water :  and  she  went  and  filled  the  bottle  with  water, 
and  gave  the  lad  drink. 

10.  "  She  stood  beside  the  well  her  God  had  given 

To  gush  in  that  deep  wilderness,  and  bathed 
The  forehead  of  her  child  until  he  laugh'd 
In  his  reviving  happiness,  and  lisp'd 
His  infant  thought  of  gladness  at  the  sight 
Of  the  cool  plashing  of  his  mother's  hand." 

N.  P.  Willis. 

11.  And  God  was  with  the  lad  Ishmael ;  and  he  grew,  and 
dwelt  in  the  wilderness,  and  became  an  archer.  From  him 
descended  the  nations  of  the  Arabians,  who  have  always  been 
a  wild  people,  as  was  foretold  of  them  by  the  angel  of  the 
Lord,  when  he  said  of  Ishmael,  "  He  will  be  a  wild  man :  his 
hand  will  be  against  every  man,  and  every  man's  hand  against 
him." 


1  C8n'-vke8E,  conversation ;  familiar  inter- 
course. 

2  W6imt'-kd,  accustomed. 
i  SHBom>'-iNG,  covering. 


4  Bkook,  endure ;  bear. 

5  WiiiL'-iNG,  beguiling;  deceiving. 

6  IIek'-it-age,  inheritance. 

"^  I'il'-lowed,  resting  upon,  as  on  a  pillow. 


LESSON  HI. 
THE  PASSAGE  OF  THE  RED  SEA. 

1.  From  Jacob,  the  son  of  Isaac,  were  descended  the  peo- 
ple caUed  Israelites,  whose  history  occupies  a  great  portion 
of  the  Old  Testament.  Jacob  was  the  father  of  that  Joseph 
who  was  sold  into  Egypt,  and  who  became  governor  of  the 
land  under  Pharaoh.  But  the  descendants  of  Joseph  and  his 
brethren  were  reduced  to  bondage  by  the  Egyptians,  and 
treated  with  great  cruelty. 

2.  At  length  the  Lord  raised  up  Moses  to  deliver  the  Is- 
raelites from  bondage;  and,  in  answer  to  the  prayers  of 
Moses,  great  plagues  fell  upon  the  Egyptians ;  but  it  was  not 
until  the  Lord  smote  all  the  first-born  in  the  land  <^f  Egypt, 

P 


338  WILLSON's  FOUETH  KEADEE.  Part  VI. 

save  the  first-bom  of  the  Israelites,  and  filled  the  land  with 
mourning,  that  Pharaoh  the  king  consented  to  let  the  people 
of  Israel  go. 

3.  But  the  Lord  hardened  the  heart  of  Pharaoh  again,  and 
he  said,  "  Why  have  we  done  this,  that  we  have  let  Israel  go 
from  serving  us  ?"  And  with  a  great  army  of  chariots  and 
horsemen  he  pursued  the  children  of  Israel*,  and  overtook 
them  encamping  by  the  Red  Sea.  Then  the  pillar  of  cloud, 
which  had  led  the  people  of  Israel  by  day,  removed,  and  stood 
between  them  and  the  Egyptians ;  and  it  was  a  cloud  and 
darkness  to  Pharaoh  and  his  host,  but  it  gave  light  to  the 
children  of  Israel. 

4.  And  the  Lord  commanded  Moses,  and  he  stretched  out 
his  rod  over  the  waters,  and  the  w^aters  of  the  sea  divided, 
and  rose  up  as  a  wall  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  and 
the  Israelites  passed  over  on  dry  ground.  But  when  the  host 
of  Pharaoh  pursued,  the  waters  flowed  back  upon  the  Egyp- 
tians and  overthrew  them,  so  that  "there  remained  not  so 
much  as  one  of  them  alive," 

5.  "He  comes — their  leader  comes !  the  man  of  God 

O'er  the  wide  waters  lifts  his  mighty  rod, 

And  onward  treads.     The  circling  waves  retreat, 

In  hoarse,  deep  murmurs,  from  his  holy  feet ; 

And  the  chased  surges,  inly  roaring,  show 

The  hard  wet  sand,  and  coral  hills  below. 

With  limbs  that  falter,  and  with  hearts  that  swell, 

Down,  down  they  pass — a  steep  and  slippery  dell. 

6.  "Around  them  rise,  in  pristine^  chaos^  hurled, 

The  ancient  rocks,  the  secrets  of  the  world ; 

And  flowers  that  blush  beneath  the  ocean  green, 

And  caves,  the  sea-calves'  low-roofed  haunts,  are  seen. 

Down,  safely  down  the  narrow  pass  they  tread  ; 

The  beetling^  waters  storm  above  their  head ; 

While  far  behind  retires  the  sinking  day, 

And  fades  on  Edom's  hills  its  latest  ray. 

Yet  not  from  Israel  fled  the  friendly  light, 

Nor  dark  to  them,  nor  cheerless,  came  the  night ; 

Still  in  their  van,  along  that  dreadful  road. 

Blazed  broad  and  fierce  the  brandished  torch  of  God. 

7.  "Its  meteor  glare  a  ten-fold  lustre  gave 
T    On  the  long  mirror  of  the  rosy  wave ; 


Part  VI. 


SKETCHES   FKOM  SACKED   HISTORY. 


339 


While  its  bless'd  beams  a  sun-like  heat  supply, 
Warm  every  cheek,  and  dance  in  every  eye — 
To  them  alone :  for  Misraim's*  wizard  train 
Invoke,  for  light,  their  monster-gods  in  vain : 
Clouds  heaped  on  clouds  their  struggling  sight  confine, 
And  ten-fold  darkness  broods  above  their  line. 

Yet  on  they  press,  by  reckless  vengeance  led. 

And  range,  unconscious,  through  the  ocean's  bed ; 

Till  midway  now — that  strange  and  fiery  Form 

Showed  his  dread  visage  lightening  through  the  storm  ; 

With  withering  splendor  blasted  all  their  might, 

And  brake  their  chariot- wheels,  and  marred^  their  coursers'  flight. 

*  Fly,  Misraim,  fly !'     The  ravenous  floods  they  see, 

And,  fiercer  than  the  floods,  the  Deity. 

*Fly,  Misraim,  fly !'    From  Edom's  coral  strand 

Again  the  prophet  stretched  his  dreadful  wand : 

With  one  wild  crash  the  thundering  waters  sweep, 

And  all  is  waves — a  dark  and  lonely  deep : 

Yet  o'er  those  lonely  waves  such  murmurs  passed. 

As  mortal  wailing  swelled  the  nightly  blast ; 

And  strange  and  sad  the  whispering  breezes  bore 

The  groans  of  Egypt  to  Arabia's  shore. "  Heber. 


1  Peis'-tTne,  early ;  original. 

2  €ha'-08,  that  confusion  in  which  matter  is 
supposed  to  have  existed  before  it  was  re- 
duced to  order  by  the  creating  power  of 
God. 


3  Bee'tling,  overhanging ;  jutting  over. 

*  Mis'-RA-iM,  the  name  given  by  the  He- 
brews to  ancient  Egypt. 

*  Mab'bed,  impeded ;  impaired. 


LESSON  IV. 
ISRAEL  UNDER  THE  JUDGES. 

1.  During  forty  years  after  the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea 
the  children  of  Israel  wandered  in  the  wilderness.  Then 
they  crossed  the  river  Jordan,  and  in  seven  years,  under  the 
leadership  of  Joshua,  completed  the  conquest  of  the  greater 
part  of  the  land  of  Canaan. 

2.  From  the  time  of  the  death  of  Joshua  to  the  election  of 
Saul  as  king,  the  Israelites  were  ruled  by  judges ;  but  often 
during  this  period  they  relapsed^  into  idolatry,  for  which  they 
were  punished  by  being  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  sur- 
rounding nations.  But  from  time  to  time  the  Lord  raised  up 
good  and  valiant  men — Othniel,  and  Ehud,  and  Barak,  and 


340  wuxson's  foukth  reader.  pakt  VI. 

the  prophet  Gibeon,  and  Jephthah — who  successively  deliver^ 
ed  them  from  the  power  of  their  enemies. 

3.  The  history  of  Jephthah  derives  much  interest  from  a 
sad  event  which  changed  into  mourning  the  public  rejoicings 
for  a  great  victory  which  he  had  gained  over  the  enemies  of 
his  people.  Before  engaging  in  battle  he  made  a  vow  to  the 
Lord,  and  said,  "  If  thou  shalt  without  fail  deliver  the  chil- 
dren of  Ammon  into  my  hands,  then  it  shall  be  that  whatso- 
ever Cometh  forth  of  the  doors  of  my  house  to  meet  me,  shall 
surely  be  the  Lord's,  and  I  will  offer  it  up  for  a  burnt-offer- 
ing." He  was  triumphant;  but  on  his  return  to  his  home 
at  Mizpeh,  who  should  come  forth  to  meet  him  but  his  only 
child — his  daughter!  This  sorrowful  event  has  been  well 
described  in  the  following  language : 

JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER. 

4.  "  The  mighty  Jephthah  led  his  warriors  on 
Through  Mizpeh's  streets.     His  helm  was  proudly  set\ 
And  his  stern  lip  curl'd  slightly',  as  if  praise 

Were  for  the  hero's  scorn.     His  step  was  firm, 
But  free  as  India's  leopard ;  and  his  mail, 
Whose  shekels^  none  in  Israel  might  bear', 
Was  like  a  cedar's  tasseP  on  his  frame. 
His  crest  was  Judah's  kingliest^ ;  and  the  look 
Of  his  dark  lofty  eye,  and  bended  brow', 
Might  quell  the  lion. 

5.  "A  moment  more', 

And  he  had  reach'd  his  home^ ;  when  lo !  there  sprang 

One  with  a  bounding  footstep,  and  a  brow 

Of  light,  to  meet  him.     Oh !  how  beautifur  ! — 

Her  dark  eye  flashing  like  a  sunlit  gem — 

And  her  luxuriant  hair' ! — 'twas  like  the  sweep 

Of  a  swift  wing  in  visions.     He  stood  still, 

As  if  the  sight  had  wither'd  him\     She  threw 

Her  arms  about  his  neck — he  heeded  not. 

She  called  him  "Father^" — but  he  answered  not. 

She  stood  and  gazed  upon  him.     Was  he  wroth  ?* 

There  was  no  anger  in  that  bloodshot  eye. 

Had  sickness  seized  him'  ?     She  unclasp'd  his  helm, 

And  laid  her  white  hand  gently  on  his  brow, 

And  the  large  veins  felt  stiiFand  hard,  like  cords. 

The  touch  aroused  him\     He  raised  up  his  hands, 

And  spoke  the  name  of  God,  in  agony. 


Tart  VI.  SKETCHES  FEOM   SACKED  HISTORY. 


341 


"  She  knew  that  he  was  stricken,  then^ ;  and  rush'd 
Again  into  his  arms^ ;  and,  with  a  flood 
Of  tears  she  could  not  stay',  she  sobb'd  a  prayer 
That  he  would  breathe  his  agony  in  words. 
He  told  her\  and  a  monientaiy  flush 
Shot  o'er  her  countenance  ;   and  then  the  soul 
Of  Jpphthah's  daughter  waken'd^ ;  and  she  stood 
Calmly  and  nobly  up,  and  said,  'twas  well — 
And  she  would  die. 

"The  sun  had  well-nigh  set. 
The  fire  was  on  the  altar ;  and  the  priest 
Of  the  high  God  was  there.     A  pallid  man 
Was  stretching  out  his  trembling  hands  to  heaven, 
As  if  he  would  have  prayed,  but  had  no  words — 
And  she  who  was  to  die,  the  calmest  one  « 


342  WILLSOn's  fourth  reader.  Part  VI. 

In  Israel  at  that  hour,  stood  up  alone, 
And  waited  for  the  sun  to  set.     Her  face 
Was  pale,  but  very  beautiful — her  lip 
Had  a  more  delicate  outline,  and  the  tint 
Was  deeper ;  but  her  countenance  was  like 
The  majesty  of  angels. 

The  sun  set — 
And  she  was  dead — ^but  not  by  violence." — N.  P.  Willis. 

8.  Although  the  Bible  tells  us  that  Jephthah  did  with  his 
daughter  "  according  to  his  vow  which  he  had  vowed,"  yet 
some  commentators,^  making  the  closing  paragraph  of  his 
vow  read,  "  or  I  will  offer  it  up  for  a  burnt-offering,"  suppose 
that  he  did  not  slay  his  daughter,  but  dedicated  her  to  the 
Lord,  and  set  her  apart  for  the  service  of  the  tabernacle. 
The  poet  has  made  the  supposition  that  before  the  appointed 
time  of  sacrifice  she  died,  "  but  not  by  violence." 

1  Re-laps'ed,  fell  back.  I*  Wroth  (rawth%  very  angiy. 

«  Shek'-el,  here  used  for  weight.  |s  €om'-ment-X-toes,  those  who  write  com- 

3  Tas'-sel,  cluster  of  the  tassel-hke  leaveai     ments  or  explanations, 
of  some  species  of  pine.  | 


LESSON  V. 
RUTH  AND  NAOMI. 

1.  It  was  during  a  severe  famine,  while  the  Judges  ruled 
Israel,  that  Elimelech,  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  with  his  wife 
Naomi  and  his  two  sons,  removed  into  the  land  of  Moab, 
where  the  young  men  married.  Death  soon  deprived  Naomi 
of  her  husband  and  her  sons :  she  then  resolved  to  return  to 
her  native  country,  and  her  daughters-in-law  generously  of- 
fered to  accompany  her. 

2.  On  representing  the  difficulties  they  would  have  to  en- 
counter, one  of  them  was  disheartened,  and  turned  back ;  but 
the  other,  named  Ruth,  persevered.  And  Ruth  said,  "En- 
treat me  not  to  leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  following  after 
thee;  for  whither  thou  goest  I  will  go,  and  where  thou 
lodgest  I  will  lodge :  thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy 
God  my  God.  Where  thou  diest  will  I  die,  and  there  will  I 
be  buried :  the  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but 
death  part  thee  and  me." 


Part  VI.  SKETCHES   FROM   SACRED   HISTORY.  343 

3.  When  Naomi  saw  that  she  was  steadfastly  minded  to  go 
with  her,  she  left  speaking  to  her.  So  Naomi  returned,  taking 
her  daughter-in-law  with  her ;  and  they  came  to  Bethlehem 
in  the  beginning  of  barley-harvest.  The  story  of  Ruth  plead- 
ing with  Naomi  has  been  very  beautifully  told  in  the  follow- 
ing lines : 

4.  "  'Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  but  convert  me  to  the  truth;' 

So  spake  in  sorrow  and  in  tears  the  gently-chiding  Kuth. 

*  Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  nor  unclasp  thy  loosening  hand ; 

I'll  follow  thee,  my  mother,  to  the  far  Judean  land.' 

But,  turning  still  in  grief  away  from  her  young,  pleading  face, 

And  sadly  putting  back  the  arms  so  fondly  that  embrace — 

'My  daughter,'  thus  Naomi  said,  in  measured  tones  and  deep, 

'  We  have  our  Sabbaths  in  that  land,  and  holy  days  to  keep, 

And  there's  a  bound  we  can  not  pass  upon  that  day,  you  know;' 

But  Ruth  said,  'Only  where  thou  goest,  mother,  will  I  go.' 

5.  "Still  spake  Naomi,  '  Turn  again— thy  home  is  not  with  me ; 

For  Judah's  children  must  not  with  the  outcast  Gentile  be.' 
Ruth  answered,  '  In  that  stranger-land  with  thee,  oh,  let  me  stay, 
And  where  thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge — I  can  not  go  away.' 
And  then  again  Naomi,  '  We  have  precepts  to  observe. 
And  from  our  fathers'  worship  are  commanded  not  to  swerve.' 
Ruth  answered  with  religious  zeal,  '  I  bow  to  Judah's  Lord : 
Thy  people  shall  my  people  be — thy  God  shall  be  my  God.' 

6.  "And  now  the  mother's  love  burst  forth,  and  rose  in  accents  wild  ; 

'  Turn  back,  beloved,  oh !  turn  back,  for  think  you,  Ruth,  my  child, 
Your  fainting  heart  could  ever  bear  the  woes  I  number  now  ? 
They  must  not  dim  those  gentle  eyes,  nor  darken  o'er  that  brow ; 
For  though  thy  mother  yields  to  them,  yet,  dearest  daughter  mine, 
It  were  not  meet  that  they  should  fall  on  such  a  head  as  thine.' 

7.  "Then  Ruth,  with  sudden  brightness  in  her  mild  and  loving  eye, 

'However  hard  thy  death  may  be,  thus  only  will  I  die.' 
But  yet  once  more  Naomi  spoke,  '  My  daughter,  for  the  dead 
We  have  a  house  of  burial ;'  but  Ruth,  still  answering,  said, 
'  And  there  will  I  be  buried ;  and  the  Lord  deal  thus  by  me. 
If  aught,  my  mother,  on  the  earth,  but  death,  part  thee  and  me. '  " 

Mks.  E.  H.  J.  Cleaveland. 

8.  On  their  arrival  in  Canaan  Naomi  found  herself  forgotten 
by  her  kinsfolk,  and  was  obliged  to  depend  for  support  on 
the  labor  of  her  affectionate  daughter-in-law.  While  Ruth 
was  gleaning  in  the  lands  of  a  wealthy  man  of  that  country, 
named  Boaz,  her  beauty  and  modesty  arrested  his  attention ; 


344  willson's  fourth  READEE.  Part  VI. 

he  spoke  to  her  kindly,  and  ordered  his  reapers  to  drop  some 
of  the  barley  in  her  way,  so  as  to  aflford  her  relief  in  the  most 
deUcate  manner.  , 

9.  INot  long  after  this  the  virtuous  Ruth  became  the  wife 
of  the  wealthy  Boaz ;  and  from  this  union  sprang  Obed,  the 
father  of  Jesse,  who  was  the  father  of  David,  the  royal  pro- 
genitor of  the  Messiah.  The  story  of  Ruth  conveys  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  pictures  ever  drawn  of  fidelity  and  affec- 
tion, while  its  allusions  to  the  customs  of  the  people  of  Israel 
present  a  lively  view  of  pastoral  and  rural  life  as  exhibited  at 
that  early  period  of  history. 


LESSON^  YI. 
THE  REIGN  OF  DAVID. 


1.  The  reign  of  David,  like  that  of  Saul,  was  filled  with 
wars  carried  on  against  the  surrounding  heathen  nations.  In 
one  of  his  wars  David  gained  possession  of  Jebus,  or  Jerusa- 
lem, the  strong-hold  of  the  Jebusites ;  and  so  pleased  was  he 
with  the  strength  and  beauty  of  the  place,  that  he  made  it  the 
capital  of  his  kingdom. 

2.  The  latter  part  of  the  reign  of  David  was  clouded  by 
domestic  calamities.  The  chUd  of  his  wife  Bathsheba  died ; 
Amnon,  the  eldest  of  the  royal  princes,  was  slain  by  his 
brother  Absalom ;  and  the  ambitious  Absalom  himself  plot- 
ted against  his  father,  and  soon  became  the  head  of  a  formi- 
dable conspiracy.  The  surpassing  beauty  of  Absalom  seemed 
to  win  the  hearts  of  the  people ;  and  it  is  said  of  him  that 
"  in  aU  Israel  there  was  none  to  be  so  much  praised  as  Absa- 
lom for  his  beauty ;  from  the  sole  of  his  foot  even  imto  the 
crown  of  his  head  there  was  no  blemish  in  him." 

3.  'No  sooner  was  the  standard  of  revolt  raised  by  his  mis- 
guided and  unnatural  son,  than  King  David,  with  a  few  faith- 
ful followers,  was  compelled  to  flee  from  Jerusalem.  He 
"  went  up  by  the  ascent  of  Mount  Olivet,  and  wept  as  he 
went  up,  and  had  his  head  covered,  and  he  went  barefoot ; 
and  aU  the  people  that  were  with  him  covered  every  man  his 
head,  and  they  went  up,  weeping  as  they  went." 


Part  VI.  SKETCHES   FROM   SACEED   HISTORY.  345 

4.  Notwithstanding  tlie  prospects  of  success  which  at  first 
encouraged  Absalom,  a  numerous  army  soon  assembled  around 
King  David,  and  the  contest  was  to  be  decided  by  a  battle. 
The  field  of  struggle  was  the  wood  of  Ephraim,  in  the  great 
plain  of  Jordaii.  The  fond  father  gave  the  strongest  injunc- 
tions to  his  soldiers  to  spare  his  beloved  son ;  but  as  Absalom 
fled  from  the  field,  his  long  and  beautiful  hair  became  entan- 
gled in  an  oak,  and  in  this  condition  Joab,  the  king's  captain, 
slew  him. 

5.  When  word  was  brought  to  David  at  Jerusalem  that 
Absalom  was  slain,  the  aged  king  lamented  the  loss  of  his 
disobedient  child  with  the  most  passionate  sorrow;  and  we 
are  told  that  "  he  went  up  to  the  chamber  over  the  gate,  and 
wept :  and  as  he  went,  thus  he  said :  '  O  my  son  Absalom ! 
my  son,  my  son  Absalom !  would  God  I  had  died  for  thee, 
O  Absalom !  my  son,  my  son.' "  The  scene  in  which  David 
is  supposed  to  have  taken  his  last  look  of  his  erring  but  loved 
son,  lying  cold  in  d'eath,  and  the  lamentation  which  he  there 
uttered,  have  been  thus  described : 

DAVID'S  LAMENT  FOR  ABSALOM. 

6.  The  palP  was  settled.     He  who  slept  beneath 
Was  straighten'd  for  the  grave  ;  and,  as  the  folds 
Sunk  to  the  still  proportions,  they  hetray'd 

The  matchless  symmetry'*  of  Absalom. 

His  hair  was  yet  unshorn,  and  silken  curls 

Were  floating  round  the  tassels  as  they  sway'd 

To  the  admitted  air,  as  glossy  now 

As  when,  in  hours  of  gentle  dalliance,^  bathing 

The  snowy  fingers  of  Judaea's  daughters. 

7.  His  helm  was  at  his  feet ;  his  banner,  soil'd 
With  trailing  through  Jerusalem,  was  laid. 
Reversed,  beside  him ;  and  the  jewel'd  hilt, 
Whose  diamonds  lit  the  passage  of  his  blade, 
Rested,  like  mockeiy,  on  his  cover'd  brow. 
The  soldiers  of  the  king  trod  to  and  fro, 
Clad  in  the  garb  of  battle ;  and  their  chief, 
The  mighty  Joab,  stood  beside  the  bier, 
And  gazed  upon  the  dark  pall  steadfastly, 
As  if  he  fear'd  the  slumberer  might  stir. 

8.  A  slow  step  startled  him.     He  grasp'd  his  blade 
As  if  a  trumpet  rang ;  but  the  bent  form 

P2 


346 


willson's  fourth  reader. 


Fart  VI. 


Of  David  enter'd,  and  he  gave  command, 
In  a  low  tone,  to  his  followers, 
And  left  him  with  his  dead.     The  king  stood  still 
Till  the  last  echo  died ;  then,  throwing  off 
The  sackcloth*  from  his  brow,  and  laying  back 
The  pall  from  the  still  features  of  his  child, 
He  bowed  his  head  upon  him,  and  broke  forth 
In  the  resistless  eloquence  of  woe. 


9.  "  Alas !  my  noble  boy  I  that  thou  shouldst  die  I 

Thou,  who  wert  made  so  beautifully  fair ! 
That  death  should  settle  in  thy  glorious  eye. 

And  leave  his  stillness  in  this  clustering  hair  I 
How  could  he  mark  thee  for  the  silent  tomb ! 
My  proud  boy,  Absalom ! 

10.  "Cold  is  thy  brow,  my  son !  and  I  am  chill, 

As  to  my  bosom  I  have  tried  to  press  thee  I 
How  was  I  wont  to  feel  my  pulses  thrill. 
Like  a  rich  harp-string,  yearning  to  caress  thee, 


Pakt  VI.  SKETCHES   FKOM   SACRED   HISTORY.  847 

And  hear  thy  sweet  *  my  father  V  from  those  dumb 
And  cold  lips,  Absalom  1 

11.  "But  death  is  on  thee.    I  shall  hear  the  gush 

Of  music,  and  the  voices  of  the  young ; 
And  life  will  pass  me  in  the  mantling^  blush, 

And  the  dark  tresses  to  the  soft  winds  flung ; 
But  thou  no  more,  with  thy  sweet  voice,  shalt  come 
To  meet  me,  Absalom ! 

12.  "And  oh !  when  I  am  stricken,®  and  my  heart, 

Like  a  bruised  reed,  is  waiting  to  be  broken, 
How  will  its  love  for  thee,  as  I  depart. 

Yearn  for  thine  ear  to  drink  its  last  deep  token  I 
It  were  so  sweet,  amid  death's  gathering  gloom, 
To  see  thee,  Absalom ! 

13.  "And  now,  farewell !     'Tis  hard  to  give  thee  up, 

With  death  so  like  a  gentle  slumber  on  thee ; — 
And  thy  dark  sin ! — oh  !  I  could  di-ink  the  cup, 

If  from  this  woe  its  bitterness  had  won  thee. 
May  God  have  called  thee,  like  a  wanderer,  home, 
My  lost  boy,  Absalom!" 

14.  He  covered  up  his  face,  and  bowed  himself 
A  moment  on  his  child ;  then,  giving  him 
A  look  of  melting  tenderness,  he  clasped 
His  hands  convulsively,  as  if  in  prayer. 
And,  as  if  strength  were  given  him  of  God, 
He  rose  up  calmly,  and  composed  the  pall 
Firmly  and  decently — and  left  him  there, 

As  if  his  rest  had  been  a  breathing  sleep.         N.  P.  Willis. 


'  Pall,  the  cloth  thrown  over  a  dead  body 
at  funerals. 

2  Sym'-me-tey,  beauty  of  form ;  a  due  pro- 
portion of  the  several  parts  to  each  other. 

3  Dal'-li-ancb,  acta  of  fondness. 


*  Pack'-€loth,  a  coarse  cloth  used  in  mourn- 
ing. 

5  Man'-tling,  rising ;  spreading  as  a  blush 
spreads  over  the  face. 

6  Steiok'-en,  cast  down ;  far  gone  with  age. 


LESSOK  YH. 

THE  KINGDOM  OF  ISRAEL. 
1.  The  prosperity  of  the  Hebrews  as  a  nation  ended  with 
the  death  of  Solomon,  the  son  and  successor  of  King  David. 
When  Rehoboam,  the  son  of  Solomon,  came  to  the  throne, 
the  ten  northern  tribes  revolted,  choosing  Jeroboam  as  their 
king ;  and  from  this  time  Israel  and  Judah,  with  which  latter 


348  willson's  fourth  keadee.  Part  VI. 

was  united  part  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  were  separate  king- 
doms. The  separation  thus  effected  is  called  "  The  Revolt 
ofthe  Ten  Tribes." 

2.  The  subsequent  princes  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel,  as  the 
ten  tribes  were  called,  were  all  idolaters  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord,  although  from  time  to  time  they  were  warned  of  the 
consequences  of  their  idolatry  by  the  prophets  Elijali,  Elisha, 
Hosea,  Amos,  Jonah,  and  others. 

3.  The  history  of  Elijah  is  one  of  exceeding  interest.  Flee- 
ing before  the  wicked  Ahab,  he  was  miraculously  fed  by  ra- 
vens in  his  concealment ;  he  restored  to  life  the  son  of  the  - 
widow  who  generously  gave  him  a  share  of  her  little  store ; 
he  caused  the  false  prophets  of  Baal  to  be  put  to  death ;  and 
when  he  fled  from  the  wicked  Jezebel  into  the  wilderness,  he 
witnessed  there  some  wonderful  manifestations  of  Divine 
power ;  and,  finally,  he  was  taken  up  alive  into  heaven. 

4.  The  scene  in  the  wilderness,  when  he  was  commanded 
to  go  forth  and  stand  upon  Mount  Horeb  before  the  Lord,  is 
thus  described  in  the  Bible.  "  And  behold,  the  Lord  passed 
by,  and  a  great  and  strong  wind  rent  the  mountains,  and 
brake  in  pieces  the  rocks  before  the  Lord ;  but  the  Lord  was 
not  in  the  wind :  and  after  the  wind  an  earthquake ;  but  the 
Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake :  and  after  the  earthquake  a 
fire ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  fire :  and  after  the  fire  a 
still  small  voice." 

The  poet  Campbell  has  made  the  following  beautiful  para 
phrase^  of  this  passage: 

ELIJAH'S  INTERVIEW  WITH  GOD. 

5.  "On  Horeb's  rock  the  prophet  stood — 

The  Lord  before  him  passed ; 
A  hurricane  in  angry  mood 

Swept  by  him  strong  and  fast ; 
The  forest  fell  before  its  force, 
The  rocks  were  shiver'd  in  its  course — 

God  was  not  in  the  blast : 
Announcing  danger,  wreck,  and  death, 
'Twas  but  the  whirlwind  of  his  breath. 

6.  "It  ceased.     The  air  grew  mute — a  cloud 

Came,  muffling  up  the  sun ; 


Part  VI.  SKETCHES   FROM   SACRED   HISTORY.  349 

When,  through  the  mountain,  deep  and  loud 

An  earthquake  thundered  on  ; 
The  frighted  eagle  s}Drang  in  air, 
The  wolf  ran  howling  from  his  lair^ — 

God  was  not  in  the  storm : 
'Twas  but  the  rolling  of  his  car, 
The  trampling  of  his  steeds  from  far. 

7.  "  'Twas  still  again,  and  nature  stood 

And  calmed  her  ruffled^  frame ; 

When  swift  from  heaven  a  fiery  flood 
To  earth  devouring  came  ; 

Down  to  the  depth  the  ocean  fled ; 

The  sickening  sun  looked  wan*  and  dead- 
Yet  God  filled  not  the  fiame : 

'Twas  but  the  terror  of  his  eye 

That  lightened  through  the  troubled  sky. 

8.  "At  last  a  voice  all  still  and  small 

Rose  sweetly  on  the  ear, 
Yet  rose  so  shrill  and  clear,  that  all 

In  heaven  and  earth  might  hear : 
It  spoke  of  peace,  it  spoke  of  love, 
It  spoke  as  angels  speak  above — 

And  God  himself  was  there ; 
For  oh !  it  was  a  Father's  voice, 
That  bade  the  trembling  world  rejoice.  Campbell. 

»  Par'-a-purase,  an  explanation  of  somo'2  Lair,  the  bed  or  couch  of  a  wild  beast, 
text  or  passage  in  a  more  clear  and  ample  ^  T:uf'fi,ed,  disturbed  ;  agitated, 
manner  than  ia  expressed  in  the  words  of,*  Wan,  pale;  of  a  sickly  color, 
the  author.  I 


LESSON  yiii. 

THE  KINGDOM  OF  JUDAH. 


1.  The  history  of  Judah,  after  the  revolt  of  the  Ten  Tribes, 
is  but  little  more  than  the  history  of  a  single  town,  Jerusa- 
lem ;  although  Bethlehem  and  Hebron,  villages  then  of  little 
importance,  were  included  in  the  Judsean  territory.  Some  of 
the  kings  of  Judah,  like  those  of  Israel,  fell  into  idolatry,  for 
which  they  and  their  people  were  punished  by  being  deliv- 
ered into  the  hands  of  the  surrounding  nations:  others  re- 
stored the  worship  of  the  true  God ;  and  of  them  it  is  record- 
ed that  "  God  prospered  their  undertakings." 

2.  During  the  reign  of  the  wicked  and  idolatrous  Ahaz,  the 


350  willson's  fourth  reader.  Paht  VI 

country  was  brought  to  the  brink  of  ruin.  The  prophet 
Isaiah,  who  lived  at  that  time,  points  out  the  corruptions  of 
the  land  in  strong  terms.  He  calls  the  nation  "  a  sinful  peo- 
ple laden  with  iniquity,  a  seed  of  evil-doers."  He  also  says, 
"Thy  princes  are  rebellious,  and  companions  of  thieves." 
The  misery  that  overspread  the  land  is  vividly  depicted:^ 
"  Your  country  is  desolate,  your  cities  are  burned  with  fire ; 
your  land,  strangers  devour  it  in  your  presence."  Once  the 
Egyptians  had  plundered  Jerusalem ;  and  Ahaz  paid  tribute 
to  Assyria. 

3.  Hezekiah  was  as  zealous  in  the  cause  of  God  as' his  fa- 
ther had  been  indifferent;  he  cleansed  and  sanctified  the 
Temple,  and  restored  its  services;  and  he  refused  to  pay 
tribute  to  Assyria.  Then  Sennacherib,^  the  king  of  Assyria, 
determining  to  be  revenged  upon  Judah,  sent  a  large  army 
against  Jerusalem ;  but  we  are  told  that  "  the  angel  of  the 
Lord  went  forth,  and  smote,  in  the  camp  of  the  Assyrians,  a 
hundred  and  fourscore  and  five  thousand  men." 

4.  Accounts  of  this  miraculous  overthrow  of  the  Assyrian 
army  are  found  in  Persian  and  Egyptian  history,  as  well  as 
in  the  Bible.  The  instrument  by  which  the  Lord  executed 
vengeance  upon  the  Assyrians  is  supposed  by  some  to  have 
been  the  simoom^  of  the  desert ;  for  Isaiah  had  prophesied 
of  the  King  of  Assyria,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  behold,  I  will 
send  a  blast  upon  him."  Byron's  description  of  the  over- 
throw of  the  Assyrian  host  is  too  beautiful  to  be  omitted. 

DESTRUCTION  OF  SENNACHERIB— 711  B.C. 

5.  The  Assyrian  came  down  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold, 
And  his  cohorts*  were  gleaming  in  purple  and  gold ; 
And  the  sheen*  of  their  spears  was  like  stars  on  the  sea, 
When  the  blue  wave  rolls  nightly  on  deep  Galilee. 

G.        Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  summer  is  green, 
That  host  with  their  banners  at  sunset  were  seen ; 
Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  autumn  hath  blown, 
That  host  on  the  moiTow  lay  withered  and  strown. 

7.        For  the  angel  of  death  spread  his  wings  on  the  blast, 
And  breathed  in  the  face  of  the  foe  as  he  passed ; 
And  the  eyes  of  the  sleeper  waxed^  deadly  and  chill, 
And  their  hearts  but  once  heaved,  and  forever  were  still  I 


Part  VI.  SKETCHES    FKOM   SACRED    HISTORY.  351 

8.  And  there  lay  the  steed  with  his  nostrils  all  wide,  u_ 
But  through  them  there  roUed  not  the  breath  of  his  pride, 
And  the  foam  of  his  gasping  lay  white  on  the  turf, 

And  cold  as  the  spray  on  the  rock-beating  surf. 

9.  And  there  lay  the  ijder,  distorted  and  pale, 

With  the  dew  on  his  brow  and  the  rust  on  his  mail ;'' 
And  the  tents  were  all  silent,  the  banners  alone, 
The  lances  unlifted,  the  tnimpet  unblown. 

10.  And  the  widows  of  Ashur  are  loud  in  their  wail, 
And  the  idols  are  broke  in  the  temple  of  Baal ; 

And  the  might  of  the  Gentile,  unsmote  by  the  sword. 

Hath  melted  like  snow  in  the  glance  of  the  Lord.  Byron. 

»  De-pi€t'-ed,  described;    represented   inj     casionally  in  Arabia  and  Syria,  and  the 
words,  j     neighboring  countries. 

2  SEN-NAcn'-E-BiB   (sen-nnk'-e-rib).      Also  *  €5'-hokt,  a  band  or  body  of  warriors, 
pronounced  Sen-na-kfi' -Hb.  [s  Sheen,  brightness  ;  splendor. 

3  tsi-MOOM',  a  hot,  dry  wind,  that  blows  oc-^  Waxed,  became. 

1 7  ilAiL,  armor ;  coat  of  steel  net-work. 


LESSON  IX. 
ADVENT  OF  THE  MESSIAH. 

1.  Passing  over  a  period  of  nearly  seven  hundred  years 
from  the  time  of  the  Prophet  Isaiah,  the  inspired  writer  who 
most  clearly  foretells  the  advent^  of  Christ,  we  come  down  to 
that  remarkable  period  in  Roman  history  when  Augustus 
Caesar  ruled  over  all  the  then  civihzed  world,  and  the  heathen 
temple  of  Janus,  always  open  in  time  of  war,  was  closed  for 
the  third  time  since  the  foundation  of  Rome.  It  was  at  this 
auspicious^  period  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  promised  Messiah, 
was  born  at  Bethlehem  in  Judaea,  then  a  Roman  province; 
and  thus,  literally,  was  his  advent  the  herald^  of  "  peace  on 
earth,  and  good-will  toward  men." 

2.  The  wonderful  event  of  the  nativity*  was  not  proclaim- 
ed to  the  nations  like  the  coming  of  a  temporal  prince,  but 
was  first  announced  to  a  company  of  shepherds  in  Judaea  as 
they  watched  their  flocks  by  night.  The  manner  of  the  an- 
nouncement is  thus  related  in  the  second  chapter  of  Luke : 

3.  "And  there  were  in  the  same  country  shepherds  abiding 
in  the  field,  keeping  watch  over  their  flock  by  night.  And, 
lo,  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  upon  them,  and  the  glory  of 


362  WILLSON'S   FOUKTH   KEADEJB.  Pakt  VI. 

the  iiOrd   shone   round  about  them ;   and  they  were  sore 
afraid. 

4.  "  And  the  angel  said  unto  them,  Fear  not ;  for,  behold,  I 
bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to  all  peo- 
ple. For  unto  you  is  born  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a 
Savior,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord.  And  this  shall  be  a  sign 
unto  you:  Ye  shall  find  the  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling- 
clothes,^  lying  in  a  manger.  And  suddenly  there  was  with 
the  angel  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  praising  God,  and 
saying,  Glory  be  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace, 
good-will  toward  men." 

5.  The  beautiful  hymn  beginning, 

"  While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night," 
is  descriptive  of  the  same  event;  but  as  it  is  doubtless  already 
famihar  to  our  readers,  we  introduce  one  not  so  generally 
known,  but  scarcely  less  beautiful. 

THE  NATIVITY. 

6.  '"Judaea's  plains  in  silence  sleep 

Beneath  the  cloudless  midnight  sky, 
And  o'er  their  flocks  the  shepherds  keep 

Kind  watch,  to  David's  city  nigh :    . 
That  royal  city ! — nobler  Guest 

Is  she  a  while  to  entertain 
Than  proudest  monarch,  whose  behest^ 

It  is  o'er  earthly  realms  to  reign. 
By  Him  salvation  is  to  mortals  given, 
^  On  earth  is  shed  the  peerless''  noon  of  heaven. 

7.  "  For  see !  along  the  deep  blue  arch 

A  glory  breaks ;  and  now  a  throng 
From  where  the  sparkling  planets  march 

Comes  trooping^  down  with  shout  and  song ; 
And  o'er  those  pastures,  bathed  in  light. 

The  sacred  legions  stay  their  wing. 
While  on  the  wakeful  ear  of  night 

Steals  the  rich  hymn  that  seraphs  sing. 
And  sweetly  thus  the  mellow  accents  ran, 
*  Glory  to  God,  Good-will  and  Peace  to  Man !'  "    Tappan. 

Ad'-vbnt,  a  coming ;  the  coming  of  the  s  Swab'-dltng  -  olothes,    banda    -BTapped 


Savior. 

2  Au-8Pi"-oiotj8,  favorable;  fortunate. 

3  Hkb'-ald,  proclaimer ;  announcer. 
*  Na-tTv'-i-ty,  birth. 


around  an  infant. 
6  Bk-iikbt',  authorized  right ;  command. 
■'  Peer '-LESS,  unequaled. 
8  Troop'-inq,  moving  in  a  crowd. 


Part  VI.  SKETCHES   FROM   SACKED   HISTORY.  353 

LESSOlSr  X. 

THE  MIRACLES  OF  THE  SAVIOR. 

1.  Of  the  many  miracles  wrought  by  the  Savior  dm-ing 
his  ministry,  as  he  "  went  about  doing  good,"  there  are  some 
that  especially  call  forth  our  feelings  of  symjDathy  for  the  af- 
flicted, while  they  at  the  same  time  direct  our  thoughts  to 
Christ  as  the  Great  Physician,  who  was  sent  for  the  healing 
of  the  nations.  Some  of  the  finest  poems  in  our  language  are 
descriptive  of  these  miracles;  and  nowhere  can  be  found 
better  reading-lessons  for  the  young  than  are  presented  in 
extracts  from  them. 

2.  Of  the  Cleansing  of  the  Leper ^  we  find,  in  the  Apostle 
Mark,*  the  following  brief  account : 

"And  there  came  a  leper  to  him,  beseeching  him,  and 
kneeling  down  to  him,  and  saying  unto  him.  If  thou  wilt, 
thou  canst  make  me  clean.  And  Jesus,  moved  with  compas- 
sion, put  forth  his  hand,  and  touched  him,  and  saith  unto 
him,  I  will ;  be  thou  clean.  And  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken, 
immediately  the  leprosy  departed  from  him,  and  he  was 
cleansed." 

3.  From  Willis's  poem,  "The  Leper,"  we  extract  the  fol 
lowing : 

I.  THE  LEPER. 

It  was  noon ; 
And  Helon  knelt  beside  a  stagnant  pool 
In  the  lone  wilderness,  and  bathed  his  brow, 
Hot  with  the  burning  leprosy,  and  touched 
The  loathsome  water  to  his  fevered  lips, 
Praying  that  he  might  be  so  bless'd — to  die ! 
Footsteps  approached,  and  with  no  strength  to  flee, 
He  drew  the  covering  closer  on  his  lip. 
Crying,  "Unclean !  unclean  !"  and  in  the  folds 
Of  the  coarse  sackcloth  shrouding  up  his  face, 
He  fell  upon  the  earth  till  they  should  pass. 

4.  Nearer  the  stranger  came,  and  bending  o'er 

The  leper's  prostrate  form,  pronounced  his  name — 
"  Helon' !"     The  voice  was  like  the  master-tone 

♦  Mark,  i.,  40-42;  also  Matt.,  viii.,  2-4;  and  Luke,  v.,  12-16. 


354 


willson's  foubth  reader. 


Part  VI. 


6. 


Of  a  rich  instrument — most  strangely  sweet ; 
And  the  dull  pulses  of  disease  awoke, 
And  for  a  moment  beat  beneath  the  hot 
And  leprous  scales  with  a  restoring  thrill. 
"  Helon' !  arise^ !"  and  he  forgot  his  curse, 
And  rose  and  stood  before  Him. 

Love  and  awe 
Mingled  in  the  regard  of  Helon's  eye 
As  he  beheld  the  stranger.     He  was  not 
In  costly  raiment  clad,  nor  on  His  brow 
The  symbol  of  a  princely  lineage  wore ; 
No  followers  at  His  back,  nor  in  His  hand 
Buckler,  or  sword,  or  spear,  yet  in  His  mien 
Command  sat  throned  serene,  and  if  He  smiled, 
A  kingly  condescension  graced  His  lips. 
The  lion  would  have  crouch'd  to  in  his  lair. 

His  garb  was  simple,  and  His  sandals  worn  ; 
His  stature  model'd  with  a  perfect  grace ; 
His  countenance  the  impress  of  a  God, 
Touch'd  with  the  opening  innocence  of  a  child ; 
His  eye  was  blue  and  calm,  as  is  the  sky 
In  the  serenest  noon ;  His  hair  unshorn 
Fell  to  His  shoulders  ;  and  His  curling  beard 
The  fullness  of  perfected  manhood  bore. 

He  looked  on  Helon  earnestly  a  while. 

As  if  his  heart  were  moved,  and,  stooping  down, 


Part  VI.  SKETCHES   FROM   SACRED    HISTORY.  855 

He  took  a  little  jvater  in  His  hand 

And  laid  it  on  his  brow,  and  said,  "Be  clean\" 

And  lo  !  the  scales  fell  from  him,  and  his  blood 

Coursed  with  delicious  coolness  through  his  veins, 

And  his  dry  palms  grew  moist,  and  on  his  brow 

The  dewy  softness  of  an  infant  stole- 

His  leprosy  was  cleansed ;  and  he  fell  down 

Prostrate  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  worship'd  Him.  Willis. 

8.  The  following  is  too  beautiful  to  be  omitted : 

Alone  on  Jordan's  plain. 
His  head  all  bare  to  sun  and  rain,  ^ 

A  leper  roamed  Mdth  garments  rent, 
And  wailing  voice,  still  crying  as  he  went, 
Unclean !     Unclean !     Unclean ! 

9.  But  Jesus  passed  by ; 

And  as  his  blessed  feet  drew  nigh 
He  listened,  while  the  suppliant  prayed  ; 
And  kindly  to  that  dying  soul  he  said. 
Be  clean !    Be  clean !    Be  clean ! 

10.  By  sin  thus  tainted  sore, 

I  roam  earth's  barren  desert  o'erA 
My  head  is  bare  to  storms  of  woe, 
My  dreary  voice  still  crying  as  I  go. 
Unclean !     Unclean !     Unclean ! 

11.  Oh,  Thou!  who  on  the  Tree 
Of  Agony  once  died  for  me, 
With  pitying  mercy  hear  my  cry, 
And  kindly  to  my  guilty  soul  reply, 

Be  clean!     Be  clean!     Be  clean!  Anonymous. 


II.  THE  WIDOW  OF  NAIN. 

1.  And  it  came  to  pass  the  day  after,  that  he  went  into  a 
city  called  Nain ;  and  many  of  his  disciples  went  with  him, 
and  much  people.  Now  when  he  came  nigh  to  the  gate  of 
the  city,  behold,  there  was  a  dead  man  carried  out,  the  only 
son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow ;  and  much  people 
of  the  city  was  with  her. 

2.  And  when  the  Lord  saw  her,  he  had  compassion  on 
her,  and  said  unto  her.  Weep  not.  And  he  came  and  touch- 
ed the  bier,  and  they  that  bare  him  stood  still.    And  he  said, 


356 


willson's  fourth  eeader. 


Part  VI. 


Young  man',  I  say  unto  thee',  Arise\ .  And  he  that  was  dead 
sat  up,  and  began  to  speak:  and  he  delivered  him  to  his 
mother.     (Luke  vi.,  11-15.) 


The  Roman  sentinel  stood  helm'd  and  tall 
Beside  the  gate  of  Nain.     The  busy  tread 
Of  comers  to  the  city  mart^  was  done, 
For  it  was  almost  noon,  and  a  dead  heat 
Quiver'd  upon  the  fine  and  sleeping  dust. 
And  the  cold  snake  crept  panting  from  the  wall, 
And  bask'd  his  scaly  circles  in  the  sun. 
Upon  his  spear  the  soldier  lean'd,  and  kept 
His  idle  watch ;  and,  as  his  drowsy  dream 
Was  broken  by  the  solitary  foot 
Of  some  poor  mendicant,''  he  raised  Ms  head 
To  curse  him  for  a  tributary^  Jew, 
And  slumberously  dozed  on. 

'Twas  now  high  noon. 
The  dull,  low  murmur  of  a  funeral 


Part  VI. 


SKETCHES   FROM   SACKED    HISTORY. 


357 


Went  through  the  city — the  sad  sound  of  feet 
Unmix'd  with  voices — and  the  sentinel 
Shook  off  his  slumber,  and  gazed  earnestly 
Up  the  wide  streets  along  whose  paved  way 
The  silent  throng  crept  slowly.     They  came  on, 
Bearing  a  body  heavily  on  its  bier. 

There  was  one — 
Only  one  mourner.     Close  behind  the  bier, 
Crumpling  the  pall  up  in  her  wither'd  hands, 
Follow'd  an  aged  woman.     Her  short  steps 
Falter'd  with  weakness,  and  a  broken  moan 
Fell  from  her  lips,  thicken'd  convulsively 
As  her  heart  bled  afresh.     The  pitying  crowd 
Follow'd  apart,  but  no  one  spoke  to  her. 
She  had  no  kinsmen,*     She  had  lived  alone — 
A  widow  with  one  son.     He  was  her  all — 
The  only  tie  she  had  in  the  wide  world — 
And  he  was  dead.     They  could  not  comfort  her. 

Forth  from  the  city  gate  the  pitying  crowd 
Follow'd  the  stricken  mourner.     They  came  near 
The  place  of  burial,  and,  with  straining  hands, 
Closer  upon  her  breast  she  clasp'd  the  pall, 
And  with  a  gasping  sob,  quick  as  a  child's. 
And  an  inquiring  wildness  flashing  through 
The  thin  gray  lashes  of  her  fever'd  eyes. 
She  came  where  Jesus  stood  beside  the  way. 
He  look'd  upon  her,  and  his  heart  was  moved. 

"Weep  not !"  he  said ;  and  as  they  stay'd  the  bier, 

And  at  his  bidding  laid  it  at  his  feet. 

He  gently  drew  the  pall  from  out  her  grasp, 

And  laid  it  back  in  silence  from  the  dead. 

With  troubled  wonder  the  mute  throng  drew  near, 

And  gazed  on  his  calm  looks.     A  minute's  space 

He  stood  and  pray'd.     Then,  taking  the  cold  hand, 

He  said,  '"Arise!"    And  instantly  the  breast 

Heaved  in  its  cerements,*  and  a  sudden  flush 

Ran  through  the  lines  of  the  divided  lips. 

And  with  a  murmur  of  his  mother's  name, 

He  trembled  and  sat  upright  in  his  shroud. 

And,  while  the  mourner  hung  upon  his  neck, 

Jesus  went  calmly  on  his  way  to  Nain.  N.  P.  Willis. 


1  Mart,  a  place  for  the  sale  of  goods. 
'^  Men'-di-€ant,  a  beggar. 
i  Trib'-u-ta-by,  paying  a  tribute  or  tax  to 
secure  protection. 


*  KiNs'-MEN,  relations ;  kindred. 

*  Cerk'-ments,  cloths  dipped  in  melted  wax, 
with  which  dead  bodies  are  infolded  when 
embalmed. 


358  willson's  fourth  EEADER.  Pabt  VI. 

in.  THE  HEALING  OF  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  JAIRUS. 

1.  And,  behold,  there  cometh  one  of  the  rulers  of  the  syna- 
gogue, Jairus  by  name ;  and  when  he  saw  Jesus  he  fell  at  his 
feet,  and  besought  him  greatly,  saying,  My  little  daugh'ter 
lieth  at  the  point  of  death ;  I  pray  thee,  come  and  lay  thy 
hands  on  her,  that  she  may  be  healed,  and  she  shall  live. 

2.  And  Jesus  .went  with  him,  and  much  people  followed 
him,  and  thronged  him.  And  he  cometh  to  the  house  of  the 
ruler  of  the  synagogue,  and  seeth  the  tumult,  and  them  that 
wept  and  wailed  greatly.  And  one  said.  Thy  daughter  is 
dead :  why  troublest  thou  the  Master  any  further  ?  But  Je- 
sus said.  The  damsel  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth.  And  they 
laughed  him  to  scorn. 

3.  But  when  he  had  put  them  all  out,  he  taketh  the  father 
and  the  mother  of  the  damsel,  and  them  that  were  with  him, 
and  entereth  in  where  the  damsel  was  lying.  And  he  took  the 
damsel  by  the  hand,  and  said  unto  her.  Maiden,  arise.  And 
straightway  she  arose  and  walked. — Matt.,  ix. ;  Mark,  v. ; 
Luke,  viii. 

4.  "The  same  silverj'  light 
That  shone  upon  the  lone  rock  by  the  sea, 
Slept  on  the  ruler's  lofty  capitals, 

As  at  the  door  he  stood,  and  welcomed  in 
Jesus  and  his  disciples.     All  was  still. 
The  echoing  vestibule^  gave  back  the  slide 
Of  their  loose  sandals,^  and  the  arrowy  beam 
Of  moonlight,  slanting  to  the  marble  floor. 
Lay  like  a  spell  of  silence  in  the  rooms 
As  Jairus^  led  them  on.     With  hushing  steps 
He  trod  the  winding  stair ;  but  ere  he  touch'd 
The  latchet,  from  within  a  whisper  came, 
^Trouble  the  Master  -not— for  she  is  deadT 
And  his  faint  hand  fell  nerveless*  at  his  side, 
And  his  steps  falter'd,  and  his  broken  voice 
Choked  in  its  utterance ;  but  a  gentle  hand 
Was  laid  upon  his  arm,  and  in  his  ear 
The  Savior's  voice  sunk  thrillingly  and  low, 
^She  is  not  dead — but  sleepethV 
6.  *'  They  passed  in. 

The  spice-lamps  in  the  alabaster  urns 
Bum'd  diralv,  and  the  white  and  fragrant  smoke 


Part  VI.  SKETCHES   FROM   SACKED    HISTORY. 


359. 


Curl'd  indolently  on  the  chamber  walls. 
The  silken  curtains  slumber'd  in  their  folds — 
Not  even  a  tassel  stirring  in  the  air ; 
And  as  the  Savior  stood  beside  the  bed, 
And  pray'd  inaudibly,  *  the  ruler  heard 
The  quickening  division  of  his  breath 
As  he  grei^  earnest  inwardly.     There  came 
A  gradual  brightness  o'er  his  calm,  sad  face ; 
And,  drawing  nearer  to  the  bed,  he  moved 
The  silken  curtains  silently  apart. 
And  look'd  upon  the  maiden. 

"Like  a  form 
Of  matchless  sculpture  in  her  sleep  she  lay — 
The  linen  vesture^  folded  on  her  breast, 
And  over  it  her  white  transparent  hands. 
The  blood  still  rosy  in  their  tapering  nails. 
A  line  of  pearl  ran  through  her  parted  lips. 
And  in  her  nostrils,  spiritually  thin. 
The  breathing  curve  was  mockingly  like  life ; 
And  round  beneath  the  faintly-tinted  skin 
Ran  the  light  branches  of  the  azure  veins ; 
And  on  her  cheek  the  jet^  lash  overlay, 
Matching  the  arches  pencil'd  on  her  brow. 
Her  hair  had  been  unbound,  and  falling  loose 
Upon  her  pillow,  hid  her  small  round  ears 
In  curls  of  glossy  blackness,  and  about 
Her  polish'd  neck,  scarce  touching  it,  they  hung. 
Like  airy  shadows  floating  as  they  slept. 


360  WILLSON's  fourth  KEADEE.  Pakt  VI. 

7.  'Twas  heavenly  beautiful.     The  Savior  raised 

Her  hand  fi'om  off  her  bosom,  and  spread  t  .t 
The  sno^vy  fingers  in  his  palm,  and  said, 
^Maiden'!  Arise\'^  and  suddenly  a  flush 
Shot  o'er  her  forehead,  and  along  her  lips 
And  through  her  cheek  the  rallied  color  ran ; 
And  the  still  outline  of  her  graceful  form 
Stirr'd  in  the  linen  vesture ;  and  she  clasp'd 
The  Savior's  hand,  and  fixing  her  dark  eyes 
Full  on  his  beaming  countenance — arose.'" 

N.  P.  Willis. 

1  Ves'-ti-bule,  the  porch  or  entrance  into  aj*  Neeve'-less,  destitute  of  strength. 


house;  also  an  inner  court  which  leads 
into  a  suite  of  rooms. 

2  San'-dal,  the  ancient  form  of  shoe,  con- 
sisting of  a  sole  fastened  to  the  foot. 

3  Ja'-i-eC8,  a  Roman  ruler  in  Judaea. 


In-atjd'-i-hly,  in   a  manner   not  to 

heard. 
6  Ve8t'-Cee,  garment ;  covering. 
'  Jet,  of  the  deepest  black. 


LESSON  XL 

THE  CRUCHFIXION. 

1.  Akd  when  they  were  come  to  the  place  which  is  called 
Calvary,  there  they  crucified  him,  and  the  malefactors,  one  on 
the  right  hand  and  one  on  the  left.  Th^  said  Jesus,  Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  tffiy  do. 

2.  "Tliis  was  the  earth's  consummate  hour; 

For  this  hath  blazed  the  prophet's  power ; 
For  this  hath  swept  the  conqueror's  sword  ; 
Hath  ravaged,  raised,  cast  down,  restored : 
Persepolis,  Rome,  Babylon ! 
For  this  ye  sank,  for  this  ye  shone ! 

3.  "  Yet  things  to  which  earth's  brightest  beam 

Were  darkness— earth  itself  a  dream ; — 
Foreheads  on  which  shall  crowns  be  laid 
Sublime,  when  sun  and  star  shall  fade ; — 
Worlds  upon  worlds,  eternal  things. 
Hung  on  thy  anguish.  King  of  Kings ! 

4.  *'  Still  from  his  lip  no  curse  has  come ; 

His  lofty  eye  has  look'd  no  doom ; 

No  earthquake  burst,  no  angel  brand 

Crushes  the  black,  blaspheming  band : 

What  say  those  lips,  by  anguish  riven  ? 

'  God,  be  my  murderers  forgiven !' "  Crolt. 


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